FRIENDSHIP 
By -Hugh  Black-ma- 


WITH  AN  INTRODUCTORY 

h 
W         ROBERTSON        NICOLL 

ILLUMINAT  ED 

h 

F      BERKELEY    SMITH 


NOTE 
DD 


NEW   YORK 

FLEMING 


CHICAGO 

H       REVELL 
19     *&*    07 


TORONTO 

COMPANY 


Copyright,  1898,  by 
Fleming  H.  Revell  Compamy 


gSfgfliffS 


tes^ 

MM 

m 

m 

g  ^**f*r^ 


TO  MY  FRIEND 

HECTOR  MUNRO  FERGUSON 

AND   TO    MANY    OTHER   FRIENDS 
WHO     HAVE     MADE     LOT     RICH 


T.i.f\».'ii:it 


wmmmmsmmmamuKSk 


I  fi  1.528 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

Microsoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/friendshipOOblacrich 


CONTENTS 


The  Miracle  of  Friendship  . 

II 
The  Culture  of  Friendship 

III 
The  Fruits  of  Friendship    . 

IV 
The  Choice  of  Friendship  . 


FAGB 
II 

3) 
57 
85 


r 


The  Eclipse  of  Friendship   .    . 

VI 
The  Wreck  of  Friendship  .    . 

VII 
The  Renewing  of  Friendship  . 

VIII 
The  Limits  of  Friendship     .    . 

IX 
The  Higher  Friendship   .    .    . 


109 

l» 

163 
189 
313 


WMIimflMUmMMHWtHMffl 


*■* 


'  Bnt,  for  oxvoy  from  these,  •mother  tort 
Of lover i  link/ J  in  true  heorCs  content  / 
1%'nttb  lovtd  mot  m  these  for  like  intent, 
Bnt  on  cboitt  virtue  grounded  tbeir  J- 
Fmr  front  mil  frond  or  frtrn/J  btondishmrnt ; 
Wbitb,  tm  tbeir  ihirtli  kindling  tcolomt  frr. 
Brtve  thoughts  omd  noble  deeds  did  evermore  mpire. 

Sncb  were  greot  Hercules  ond  Hrfes  deer  ; 
Truejonothon  ond  Dovid  trust/  t 
Stout  Thetems  ond  Piritbiut  bit  frrr  : 
Pjlodm  mod  Orettot  bj  bit  tide  ; 
Mild  Titns  omd  Gaipfut  without  pHde  ; 
Demon  ond  h/thiot,  whom  death  tout  J  mot  lever  $ 
AU  thrte,  omd  oil  tbot  ever  hod  beem  tied 
h  bonds  offrtemdtbtp,  there  did  live  forever  ; 
Whose  lives  oil  hough  deeojr'd,  jet  loves  dee  erf  J  never." 
The  For, »t  Queeme. 


THE        MIRACLE 
OF    FRIENDSHIP 


a 


HE  idea,  so  common  in  the  an- 
cient  writers,  is  not  all  a  poetic 
conceit,  that  the  soul  of  a  man 
is  only  a  fragment  of  a  larger 
whole,  and  goes  out  in  search  of  other 
souls  in  which  it  will  find  its  true  com- 
pletion.  We  walk  among  worlds  un- 
realized, until  we  have  learned  the  secret 
of  love.  We  know  this,  and  in  our  sin- 
cerest  moments  admit  this,  even  though 
we  are  seeking  to  fill  up  our  lives  with 
other  ambitions  and  other  hopes. 

It  is  more  than  a  dream  of  youth  that 

there  may  be  here  a  satisfaction  of  the 

heart,  without  which,  and  in  comparison 

with  which,  all  worldly  success  is  failure. 

»3 


' 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


F%m 


it  jurat  »nnn 


HMJIUJWH 


*  In  spite  of  the  selfishness  which  seems  to 
blight  all  life,  our  hearts  tell  us  that  there 
is  possible  a  nobler  relationship  of  disin- 
terestedness and  devotion.  Friendship  in 
its  accepted  sense  is  not  the  highest  of 
the  different  grades  in  that  relationship, 
but  it  has  its  place  in  the  kingdom  of 
love,  and  through  it  we  bring  ourselves 
into  training  for  a  still  larger  love.  The 
natural  man  may  be  self-absorbed  and 
self-centred,  but  in  a  truer  sense  it  is 
natural  for  him  to  give  up  self  and  link 
his  life  on  to  others.  Hence  the  joy  with 
which  he  makes  the  great  discovery,  that 
he  is  something  to  another  and  another  is 
everything  to  him.  It  is  the  higher-nat- 
ural for  which  he  has  hitherto  existed.  It 
is  a  miracle,  but  it  happens. 

The  cynic  may  speak  of  the  now  obso- 
lete sentiment  of  friendship,  and  he  can 
find  much  to  justify  his  cynicism.  In- 
deed, on  the  first  blush,  if  we  look  at  the 
relative  place  the  subject  holds  in  ancient 
as  compared  with  modern  literature,  we 
might  say  that  friendship  is  a  sentiment 
»4 


QioioiiJitJ)it^UiJULi;tiLMtoJULi>uii»UMJ»Ajioiaj, 


I 

THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


that  is  rapidly  becoming  obsolete.  In 
Pagan  writers  friendship  takes  a  much 
larger  place  than  it  now  receives.  The 
subject  bulks  largely  in  the  works  of 
Plato,  Aristotle,  Epictetus,  Cicero.  And 
among  modern  writers  it  gets  most  im- 
portance in  the  writings  of  the  more 
Pagan-spirited,  such  as  Montaigne.  In 
all  the  ancient  systems  of  philosophy, 
friendship  was  treated  as  an  integral  part 
of  the  system.  To  the  Stoic  it  was  a 
blessed  occasion  for  the  display  of  nobil- 
ity and  the  native  virtues  of  the  human 
mind.  To  the  Epicurean  it  was  the  most 
refined  of  the  pleasures  which  made  life 
worth  living.  In  the  Nicomachean  Ethics, 
Aristotle  makes  it  the  culminating  point, 
and  Out  of  ten  books  gives  two  to  the 
discussion  of  Friendship.  He  makes  it 
even  the  link  of  connection  between  his 
treatise  on  Ethics  and  his  companion 
'  treatise  on  Politics,  vlt  is  to  him  both  the 
perfection  of  the  individual  life,  and  the 
bond  that  holds  states  together.  Friend- 
ship is  not  only  a  beautiful  and  noble 
I* 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


'X 


thing  for  a  man,  but  the  realization  of  it 
is  also  the  ideal  for  the  state ;  for  if  citi- 
zens be  friends,  then  justice,  which  is  the 
great  concern  of  all  organized  societies, 
is  more  than  secured.  Friendship  is  thus 
made  the  flower  of  Ethics,  and  the  root 
of  Politics, 
glato  also  makes  friendship  the  ideal  of 


the  state,  where  all  have  common  inter- 
ests and  mutual  confidence.  And  apart 
from  its  place  of  prominence  in  systems 
of  thought,  perhaps  a  finer  list  of  beautiful 
sayings  about  friendship  could  be  culled 
from  ancient  writers  than  from  modern. 
Classical  mythology  also  is  full  of  instan- 
ces of  great  friendship,  which  almost  as- 
sumed the  place  of  a  religion  itself. 

It  is  not  easy  to  explain  why  its.  part  in 
Christian  ethics  is  so  small  in  compari- 
son. The  change  is  due  to  an  enlarging 
of  the  thought  and  life  of  man.  Modern 
ideals  are  wider  and  more  impersonal, 
just  as  the  modern  conception  of  the 
state  is  wider.  The  Christian  ideal  of 
love  even  for  enemies  has  swallowed  up 
16 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


the  narrower  ideal  of  philosophic  friend- 
ship. Then  possibly  also  the  instinct 
finds  satisfaction  elsewhere  in  the  mod- 
ern man.  For  example,  marriage,  in 
more  cases  now  than  ever  before,  sup- 
plies the  need  of  friendship.  Men  and 
women  are  nearer  in  intellectual  pursuits 
and  in  common  tastes  than  they  have 
;ver  been,  and  can  be  in  a  truer  sense 
companions.  And  the  deepest  explana- 
tion of  all  is  that  the  heart  of  man  re- 
ceives a  religious,  satisfaction  impossible 
before.  Spiritual  communion  makes  a 
man  less  dependent  on  human  inter- 
course. When  the  heaven  is  as  brass 
and  makes  no  sign,  men  are  thrown  back 
on  themselves  to  eke  out  their  small 
stores  of  love. 

At  the  same  time  friendship  is  not  an 
obsolete  sentiment.  It  is  as  true  now  as 
in  Aristotle's  time  that  no  one  would  care 
to  live  without  friends,  though  he  had  all 
other  good  things.  It  is  still  necessary 
to  our  life  in  its  largest  sense.  The  dan- 
ger of  sneering  at  friendship  is  that  it 
17 


I 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


may  be  discarded  or  neglected,  not  in  the 
interests  of  a  more  spiritual  affection,  but 
to  minister  to  a  debased  cynical  self-in- 
dulgence. There  is  possible  to-day,  as 
ever,  a  generous  friendship  which  forgets 
self.  The  history  of  the  heart-life  of  man 
proves  this.  What  records  we  have  of 
such  in  the  literature  of  every  country! 
Peradventure  for  a  good  man  men  have 
even  dared  to  die.  Mankind  has  been 
glorified  by  countless  silent  heroisms,  by 
unselfish  service,  and  sacrificing  love. 
Christ,  who  always  took  the  highest 
ground  in  His  estimate  of  men,  and  never 
once  put  man's  capacity  for  the  noble  on 
a  low  level,  made  the  high-water  mark 
of  human  friendship  the  standard  of  His 
own  great  action,  "  Greater  love  hath  no 
man  than  this,  that  a  man  lay  down  his 
life  for  his  friends."  This  high-water 
mark  has  often  been  reached.  Men  have 
given  themselves  to  each  other,  with 
nothing  to  gain,  with  no  self-interest  to 
serve,  and  with  no  keeping  back  part  of 
the  price.  It  is  false  to  history  to  base 
V  «8 


■:M% 


HE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


life  on  selfishness,  to  leave  out  the  list  of 
human  motives  the  highest  of  all.  The 
miracle  of  friendship  has  been  too  often 
enacted  on  this  dull  earth  of  ours,  to  suf- 
fer us  to  doubt  either  its  possibility  or  its 
wondrous  beauty. 

The  classic  instance  of  David  and  Jona- 
than represents  the  typical  friendship. 
They  met,  and  at  the  meeting  knew  each 
other  to  be  nearer  than  kindred.  By 
subtle  elective  affinity  they  felt  that  they 
belonged  to  each  other.  Out  of  all  the 
chaos  of  the  time  and  the  disorder  of 
their  lives,  there  arose  for  these  two  souls 
a  new  and  beautiful  world,  where  there 
reigned  peace,  and  love,  and  sweet  con- 
tent. It  was  the  miracle  of  the  death  of 
self.  Jonathan  forgot  his  pride,  and 
David  his  ambition.  It  was  as  the  smile 
of  God  which  changed  the  world  to 
them.  One  of  them  it  saved  from  the 
temptations  of  a  squalid  court,  and  the 
other  from  the  sourness  of  an  exile's  life. 
Jonathan's  princely  soul  had  no  room  for 
envy  or  jealousy.  David's  frank  nature 
19 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


8U 


rose   to  meet  the  magnanimity  of  his 
friend. 

In  the  kingdom  of  love  there  was  no 
disparity  between  the  king's  son  and  the 
shepherd  boy.  Such  a  gift  as  each  gave 
and  received  is  not  to  be  bought  or  sold. 
It  was  the  fruit  of  the  innate  nobility  of 
both:  it  softened  and  tempered  a  very 
trying  time  for  both.  Jonathan  with- 
stood his  father's  anger  to  shield  his 
friend :  David  was  patient  with  Saul  for 
his  son's  sake.  They  agreed  to  be  true 
to  each  other  in  their  difficult  position. 
Close  and  tender  must  have  been  the 
bond,  which  had  such  fruit  in  princely 
generosity  and  mutual  loyalty  of  soul. 
Fitting  was  the  beautiful  lament,  when 
David's  heart  was  bereaved  at  tragic  Gil- 
boa,  "  I  am  distressed  for  thee,  my  brother 
Jonathan:  very  pleasant  hast  thou  been 
unto  me:  thy  love  to  me  was  wonderful, 
passing  the  love  of  women."  Love  is 
always  wonderful,  a  new  creation,  fair 
and  fresh  to  every  loving  soul.  It  is  the 
miracle  of  spring  to  the  cold  dull  earth. 
20 


When  Montaigne  wrote  his  essay  on 
Friendship,  he  could  do  little  but  tell  the 
story  of  his  friend.  The  essay  continu- 
ally reverts  to  this,  with  joy  that  he  had 
been  privileged  to  have  such  a  friend, 
with  sorrow  at  his  loss.  It  is  a  chapter 
of  his  heart.  There  was  an  element  of 
necessity  about  it,  as  there  is  about  all 
the  great  things  of  life.  He  could  not 
account  for  it.  It  came  to  him  without 
effort  or  choice.  It  was  a  miracle,  but  it 
happened.  "  If  a  man  should  importune 
me  to  give  a  reason  why  I  loved  him,  I 
can  only  answer,  because  it  was  he,  be- 
cause it  was  I."  It  was  as  some  secret 
appointment  of  heaven.  They  were  both 
grown  men  when  they  first  met,  and 
death  separated  them  soon.  "  If  I  should 
compare  all  my  life  with  the  four  years  I 
had  the  happiness  to  enjoy  the  sweet  so- 
ciety of  this  excellent  man,  it  is  nothing 
but  smoke;  an  obscure  and  tedious  night 
from  the  day  that  I  lost  him.  I  have  led 
a  sorrowful  and  languishing  life  ever 
since.    I  was  so  accustomed  to  be  al- 

21 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ways  his  second  in  all  places  and  in  all 
interests,  that  methinks  I  am  now  no 
more  than  half  a  man,  and  have  but  half 
a  being."  We  would  hardly  expect  such 
passion  of  love  and  regret  from  the  easy- 
going, genial,  garrulous  essayist. 

The  joy  that  comes  from  a  true  com- 
munion of  heart  with  another  is  perhaps 
one.  of  the  purest  and  greatest  in  the 
woild,  but  its  function  is  not  exhausted 
by  merely  giving  pleasure.  Though  we 
may  not  be  conscious  of  it,  there  is  a 
deeper  purpose  in  it,  an  education  in  the 
highest  arts  of  living.  We  may  be  en- 
ticed by  the  pleasure  it  affords,  but  its 
greatest  good  is  got  by  the  way.  Even 
intellectually  it  means  the  opening  of  a 
door  into  the  mystery  of  life.  Only  love 
understands  after  all.  It  gives  insight. 
We  cannot  truly  know  anything  without 
sympathy,  without  getting  out  of  self 
and  entering  into  others.  A  man  cannot 
be  a  true  naturalist,  and  observe  the  ways 
of  birds  and  insects  accurately,  unless  he 
can  watch  long  and  lovingly.  We  can 
22 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


never  know  children,  unless  we  love 
them.  Many  of  the  chambers  of  the 
house  of  life  are  forever  locked  to  us, 
until  love  gives  us  the  key. 

To  learn  to  love  all  kinds  of  nobleness 
gives  insight  into  the  true  significance 
of  things,  and  gives  a  standard  to  settle 
their  relative  importance.  An^unintep- 
ested  spectator  sees  nothing,  or.  what  is 
worse,  sees  wrongly.  Most  of  our  mean 
estimates  of  human  nature  in  modern  lit- 
erature, and  our  false  realisms  in  art,  and 
our  stupid  pessimisms  in  philosophy,  are 
due  to  an  unintelligent  reading  of  surface 
facts.  Men  set  out  to  note  and  collate 
impressions,  and  make  perhaps  a  scien- 
tific study  of  slumdom,  without  genuine 
interest  in  the  lives  they  see,  and  there- 
fore without  true  insight  into  them. 
They  miss  the  inwardness,  which  love 
alone  can  supply.  If  we  look  without 
love  we  can  only  see  the  outside,  the 
mere  form  and  expression  of  the  subject 
studied.  Only  with  tender  compassion 
and  loving  sympathy  can  we  see  the 
23 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


beauty  even  in  the  eye  dull  with  weep- 
ing and  in  the  fixed  face  pale  with  care. 
We  will  often  see  noble  patience  shining 
through  them,  and  loyalty  to  duty,  and 
virtues  and  graces  unsuspected  by  others. 

The  divine  meaning  of  a  true  friendship 
is  that  it  is  often  the  first  unveiling  of  the 
secret  of  love.  It  is  not  an  end  in  itself, 
but  has  most  of  its  worth  in  what  it  leads 
to,  the  priceless  gift  of  seeing  with  the 
heart  rather  than  with  the  eyes.  To  love 
one  soul  for  its  beauty  and  grace  and 
truth  is  to  open  the  way  to  appreciate  all 
beautiful  and  true  and  gracious  souls, 
and  to  recognize  spiritual  beauty  wher- 
ever it  is  seen. 

The  possibility  at  least  of  friendship 
must  be  a  faith  with  us.  The  cynical  at- 
titude is  an  offence.  It  is  possible  to  find 
in  the  world  true-hearted,  leal,  and  faith- 
ful dealing  between  man  and  man.  To 
doubt  this  is  to  doubt  the  divine  in  life. 

/iFaith  in  man  is  essential  to  faith  in  God. 
In  spite  of  all  deceptions  and  disillusion- 
ments,  in  spite  of  all  the  sham  fellow- 


24 


:jij  ■> 


iuurouMJimi 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ships,  in  spite  of  the  flagrant  cases  of  self- 
interest  and  callous  cruelty,  we  must 
keep  clear  and  bright  our  faith  in  the 
possibilities  of  our  nature.  The  man  who 
hardens  his  heart  because  he  has  been 
imposed  on  has  no  real  belief  in  virtue, 
and  with  suitable  circumstances  could 
become  the  deceiver  instead  of  the  de- 
ceived. The  great  miracle  of  friendship 
with  its  infinite  wonder  and  beauty  may 
be  denied  to  us,  and  yet  we  may  believe 
in  it.  To  believe  that  it  is  possible  is 
enough,  even  though  in  its  superbest 
form  it  has  never  come  to  us.  To  pos- 
sess it,  is  to  have  one  of  the  world's 
sweetest  gifts. 

Aristotle  defines  friendship  as  one  soul 
abiding  in  two  bodies.  There  is  no  ex- 
plaining such  a  relationship,  but  there  is 
no  denying  it.  It  has  not  deserted  the 
world  since  Aristotle's  time.  Some  of 
our  modern  poets  have  sung  of  it  with  as 
brave  a  faith  as  ever  poet  of  old.  What 
splendid  monuments  to  friendship  we 
possess  in  Milton's  Lycidas  and  Tenny- 
25 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


son's  In  Memoriam!  In  both  there  is 
the  recognition  of  the  spiritual  power  of 
it,  as  well  as  the  joy  and  comfort  it 
brought.  The  grief  is  tempered  by  an 
awed  wonder  and  a  glad  memory. 

The  finest  feature  of  Rudyard  Kipling's 
work  and  it  is  a  constant  feature  of  it,  is 
the  comradeship  between  commonplace 
soldiers  of  no  high  moral  or  spiritual  at- 
tainment, and  yet  it  is  the  strongest  force 
in  their  lives,  and  on  occasion  makes 
heroes  of  them.  We  feel  that  their  faith- 
fulness to  each  other  is  almost  the  only 
point  at  which  their  souls  are  reached. 
The  threefold  cord  of  his  soldiers,  vulgar 
in  mind  and  common  in  thought  as  they 
are,  is  a  cord  which  we  feel  is  not  easily 
broken,  and  it  is  their  friendship  and  loy- 
alty to  each  other  which  save  them  from 
utter  vulgarity. 

In  Walt  Whitman  there  is  the  same  in- 
sight into  the  force  of  friendship  in  ordi- 
nary life,  with  added  wonder  at  the 
miracle  of  it.  He  is  the  poet  of  com- 
rades, and  sings  the  song  of  companion- 


26 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ship  more  than  any  other  theme.  He 
ever  comes  back  to  the  lifelong  love  of 
comrades.  The  mystery  and  the  beauty 
of  it  impressed  him. 

"O  tan-faced  prairie-boy, 
Before  you  came  to  camp  came  many  a  welcome  gift, 
Praises  and  presents  came  and  nourishing  food,  till  at  last 

among  the  recruits 
You  came,  taciturn,  with  nothing  to  give — we  but  looked  on 

each  other, 
When  lo  !    more  than  all  the  gifts  of  the  world  you  gave 

me." 

After  all,  in  spite  of  the  vulgar  material- 
ism of  our  day,  we  do  feel  that  the  spir- 
itual side  of  life  is  the  most  important,  . 
and  brings  the  only  true  joy.  And  friend- 
ship  in  its  essence  is  spiritual.     It  is  the  j 
free,  spontaneous  outflow  of  the  heart,  ! 
and  is  a  gift  from  the  great  Giver.  ^^ 

Friends  are  born,  not  made.  At  least  •- 
it  is  so  with  the  higher  sort.  The  mar- 
riage of  souls  is  a  heavenly  mystery, 
which  we  cannot  explain,  and  which  we 
need  not  try  to  explain.  The  method  by 
which  it  is  brought  about  differs  very 
much,  and  depends  largely  on  temper- 
27 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ament  Some  friendships  grow,  and 
ripen  slowly  and  steadily  with  the  years. 
We  cannot  tell  where  they  began,  or 
how.  They  have  become  part  of  out 
lives,  and  we  just  accept  them  with 
sweet  content  and  glad  confidence.  We 
have  discovered  that  somehow  we  are 
rested,  and  inspired,  by  a  certain  com- 
panionship; that  we  understand  and  are 
understood  easily. 

Or  it  may  come  like  love  at  first  sight, 
by  the  thrill  of  elective  affinity.  This 
latter  is  the  more  uncertain,  and  needs  to 
be  tested  and  corrected  by  the  trial  of  the 
years  that  follow.  It  has  to  be  found 
out  whether  it  is  really  spiritual  kinship, 
or  mere  emotional  impulse.  It  is  a  mat- 
ter of  temper  and  character.  A  naturally 
reserved  person  finds  it  hard  to  open  his 
heart,  even  when  his  instinct  prompts 
him ;  while  a  sociable,  responsive  nature 
is  easily  companionable.  It  is  not  always 
this  quick  attachment,  however,  which 
wears  best,  and  that  is  the  reason  why 
youthful  friendships  have  the  character 


£*i*u*uuBBn^ 

THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


of  being  so  fickle.  They  are  due  to  a 
natural  instinctive  delight  in  society. 
Most  young  people  find  it  easy  to  be 
agreeable,  and  are  ready  to  place  them- 
selves under  new  influences. 

But  whatever  be  the  method  by  which 
a  true  friendship  is  formed,  whether  the 
growth  of  time  or  the  birth  of  sudden 
sympathy,  there  seems,  on  looking  back, 
to  have  been  an  element  of  necessity.  It 
is  a  sort  of  predestined  spiritual  relation- 
ship. We  speak  of  a  man  meeting  his 
fate,  and  we  speak  truly.  When  we 
look  back  we  see  it  to  be  like  destiny; 
life  converged  to  life,  and  there  was  no 
getting  out  of  it  even  if  we  wished  it.  It 
is  not  that  we  made  a  choice,  but  that 
the  choice  made  us.  If  it  has  come 
gradually,  we  waken  to  the  presence  of 
the  force  which  has  been  in  our  lives, 
and  has  come  into  them  never  hasting 
but  never  resting,  till  now  we  know  it  to 
be  an  eternal  possession.  Or,  as  we  are 
going  about  other  business,  never  dream- 
ing of  the  thing  which  occurs,  the  unex- 
29 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


pected  happens;  on  the  road  a  light 
shines  on  us,  and  life  is  never  the  same 
again. 

In  one  of  its  aspects,  faith  is  the  recog- 
nition of  the  inevitableness  of  providence; 
and  when  it  is  understood  and  accepted, 
it  brings  a  great  consoling  power  into  the 
life.  We  feel  that  we  are  in  the  hands 
of  a  Love  that  orders  our  ways,  and  the 
knowledge  means  serenity  and  peace. 
The  fatality  of  friendship  is  gratefully  ac^ 
cepted,  as  the  fatality  of  birth.  To  the 
faith  which  sees  love  in  all  creation,  all 
life  becomes  harmony,  and  all  sorts  of 
loving  relationships  among  men  seem  to 
be  part  of  the  natural  order  of  the  world. 
Indeed,  such  miracles  are  only  to  be 
looked  for,  and  if  absent  from  the  life  of 
man  would  make  it  hard  to  believe  in  the 
love  of  God. 

The  world  thinks  we  idealize  our 
friend,  and  tells  us  that  love  is  pro- 
verbially blind.  Not  so:  it  is  only  love 
that  sees,  and  thus  can  ''win  the  secret 
of  a  weed's  plain  heart."  We  only  see 
30 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


what  dull  eyes  never  see  at  all.  If  we 
wonder  what  another  man  sees  in  his 
friend,  it  should  be  the  wonder  of  hu- 
mility, not  the  supercilious  wonder  of 
pride.  He  sees  something  which  we  are 
not  permitted  to  witness.  Beneath  and 
amongst  what  looks  only  like  worthless 
slag,  there  may  glitter  the  pure  gold  of 
a  fair  character.  That  anybody  in  the 
world  should  be  got  to  love  us,  and  to 
see  in  us  not  what  colder  eyes  see,  not 
even  what  we  are  but  what  we  may  be, 
should  of  itself  make  us  humble  and 
gentle  in  our  criticism  of  others'  friend- 
ships. (Our  friends  see  the  best  in  us, 
and  by  that  very  fact  call  forth  the  best 
from  us.T 

The  great  difficulty  in  this  whole  sub- 
ject is  that  the  relationship  of  friend- 
ship should  so  often  be  one-sided.  It 
seems  strange  that  there  should  be  so 
much  unrequited  affection  in  the  world. 
It  seems  almost  impossible  to  get  a  com- 
pletely balanced  union.  One  gives  so 
much  more,  and  has  to  be  content  to  get 
3i 


THE  MIRACLE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


so  much  less.  One  of  the  most  humili- 
ating things  in  life  is  when  another  seems 
to  offer  his  friendship  lavishly,  and  we 
are  unable  to  respond.  So  much  love 
seems  to  go  a-begging.  So  few  attach- 
ments seem  complete.  So  much  affec- 
tion seems  unrequited. 

But  are  we  sure  it  is  unrequited  ?  The 
difficulty  is  caused  by  our  common  self- 
ish standards.  Most  people,  if  they  had 
their  choice,  would  prefer  to  be  loved 
rather  than  to  love,  if  only  one  of  the 
alternatives  were  permitted.  That  springs 
from  the  root  of  selfishness  in  human 
nature,  which  makes  us  think  that  pos- 
session brings  happiness.  But  the  glory 
of  life  is  to  love,  not  to  be  loved ;  to  give, 
not  to  get;  to  serve,  not  to  be  served.  It 
may  not  be  our  fault  that  we  cannot  re- 
spond to  the  offer  of  friendship  or  love, 
but  it  is  our  misfortune.  The  secret  is 
revealed  to  the  other,  and  hid  from  us. 
The  gain  is  to  the  other,  and  the  loss  is  to 
us.  The  miracle  is  the  love,  and  to  the 
lover  comes  the  wonder  of  it,  and  the  joy. 
3* 


EZ 


3  miLJio»Lwa  jioumiu/iom  »■""  wl w  itoJiiiim  .^rv 


"How  were  Friendship  possible?  In  mutual  devoted- 
rtess  to  the  Good  and  True :  otherwise  impossible,  except 
as  Armed  Neutrality,  or  hollow  Commercial  League.  A 
man,  be  the  Heavens  ever  praised,  is  sufficient  for  him. 
tdfl  yei  were  ten  men,  united  in  Love,  capable  of  being 
and  of  doing  what  le,,  thousand  singly  would  fail  in. 
Infinite  is  the  help  man  can  yield  to  man." 

Carlyle,  Sartor  Resarlus. 


IE 

1ITY 


THE       C  ULTURFI 
OF   FRIENDSHIP 


» 


HE  Book  of  Proverbs  might  al- 
most be  called  a  treatise  on 
Friendship,  so  full  is  it  of  ad- 
vice about  the  sort  of  person  a 
young  man  should  consort  with,  and  the 
sort  of  person  he  should  avoid.  It  is  full 
of  shrewd,  and  prudent,  and  wise,  some- 
times almost  worldly-wise,  counsel.  It 
is  caustic  in  its  satire  about  false  friends, 
and  about  the  way  in  which  friendships 
are  broken.  "The  rich  hath  many 
friends,"  with  an  easily  understood  im- 
plication concerning  their  quality.  "  Every 
man  is  a  friend  to  him  that  giveth  gifts," 
is  its  sarcastic  comment  on  the  ordinary 
motives  of  mean  men.     Its  picture  of  the 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


plausible,  fickle,  lip-praising,  and  time- 
serving man,  who  blesseth  his  friend 
with  a  loud  voice,  rising  early  in  the 
morning,  is  a  delicate  piece  of  satire. 
The  fragile  connections  among  men,  as 
easily  broken  as  mended  pottery,  get  il- 
lustration in  the  mischief-maker  who 
loves  to  divide  men.  "  A  whisperer  sep- 
arated chief  friends.'*  There  is  keen 
irony  here  over  the  quality  of  ordinary 
friendship,  as  well  as  condemnation  of 
the  tale-bearer  and  his  sordid  soul. 

This  cynical  attitude  is  so  common  that 
we  hardly  expect  such  a  shrewd  book  to 
speak  heartily  of  the  possibilities  of  hu- 
man friendship.  Its  object  rather  is  to 
put  youth  on  its  guard  against  the  dan- 
gers and  pitfalls  of  social  life.  It  gives 
sound  commercial  advice  about  avoiding 
becoming  surety  for  a  friend.  It  warns 
against  the  tricks,  and  cheats,  and  bad 
faith,  which  swarmed  in  the  streets  of  a 
city  then,  as  they  do  still.  '  It  laughs,  a 
little  bitterly,  at  the  thought  that  friend- 
ship can  be  as  common  as  the  eager,  gen- 
36 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


erous  heart  of  youth  imagines.  It  almost 
sneers  at  the  gullibility  of  men  in  this 
whole  matter.  "He  that  maketh  many 
friends  doeth  it  to  his  own  destruction." 
And  yet  there  is  no  book,  even  in 
classical  literature,  which  so  exalts  the 
idea  of  friendship,  and  is  so  anxious  to 
have  it  truly  valued,  and  carefully  kept. 
The  worldly-wise  warnings  are  after  all 
in  the  interests  of  true  friendship.  To 
condemn  hypocrisy  is  not,  as  is  so  often 
imagined,  to  condemn  religion.  To  spurn 
the  spurious  is  not  to  reject  the  true.  A 
sneer  at  folly  may  be  only  a  covert  argu- 
ment for  wisdom.  Satire  is  negative 
truth.  The  unfortunate  thing  is  that 
most  men,  who  begin  with  the  pruden- 
tial worldly-wise  philosophy,  end  there. 
They  never  get  past  the  sneer.  Not  so 
this  wise  book.  In  spite  of  its  insight 
into  the  weakness  of  man,  in  spite  of  its 
frank  denunciation  of  the  common  mas- 
querade of  friendship,  it  speaks  of  the 
true  kind  in  words  of  beauty  that  have 
never  been  surpassed  in  all  the  many  ap- 
37 


• 

^ojCjwLiirtLf/-. 

}mmmim. 

'TZffiBBZBCSECr 

THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


praisements  of  this  subject.  "A  friend 
loveth  at  all  times,  and  is  a  brother  born 
for  adversity.  Faithful  are  the  wounds 
of  a  friend.  Ointment  and  perfume  re- 
joice the  heart,  so  doth  the  sweetness  of 
a  man's  friend  by  hearty  counsel.  Thine 
own  friend  and  thy  father's  friend  for- 
sake not."  These  are  not  the  words  of 
a  cynic,  who  has  lost  faith  in  man. 

True,  this  golden  friendship  is  not  a 
common  thing  to  be  picked  up  in  the 
street.  It  would  not  be  worth  much  if 
it  were.  Like  wisdom  it  must  be  sought 
for  as  for  hid  treasures,  and  to  keep  it 
demands  care  and  thought.  To  think 
that  every  goose  is  a  swan,  that  every 
new  comrade  is  the  man  of  your  own 
heart,  is  to  have  a  very  shallow  heart. 
Every  casual  acquaintance  is  not  a  hero. 
There  are  pearls  of  the  heart,  which  can- 
not be  thrown  to  swine.  Till  we  learn 
what  a  sacred  thing  a  true  friendship  is, 
it  is  futile  to  speak  of  the  culture  of 
friendship.  The  man  who  wears  his 
heart  on  his  sleeve  cannot  wonder  if 
38 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


daws  peck  at  it.  There  ought  to  be  a 
sanctuary,  to  which  few  receive  admit- 
tance. It  is  great  innocence,  or  great 
folly,  and  in  this  connection  the  terms 
are  almost  synonymous,  to  open  our 
arms  to  everybody  to  whom  we  are  in- 
troduced. The  Book  of  Proverbs,  as  a 
manual  on  friendship,  gives  as  shrewd 
and  caustic  warnings  as  are  needed,  but 
it  does  not  go  to  the  other  extreme,  and 
say  that  all  men  are  liars,  that  there  are 
no  truth  and  faithfulness  to  be  found. 
To  say  so  is  to  speak  in  haste.  There 
is  a  friend  that  sticketh  closer  than  a 
brother,  says  this  wisest  of  books.  There 
is  possible  such  a  blessed  relationship,  a 
state  of  love  and  trust  and  generous  com- 
radehood,  where  a  man  feels  safe  to  be 
himself,  because  he  knows  that  he  will 
not  easily  be  misunderstood. 

The  word  friendship  has  been  abased 
by  applying  it  to  low  and  unworthy  uses, 
and  so  there  is  plenty  of  copy  still  to  be 
got  from  life  by  the  cynic  and  the  satirist 
The  sacred  name  of  friend  has  been  ban- 
39 


died  about  till  it  runs  the  risk  of  losing 
its  true  meaning.  Rossetti's  versicle  finds 
its  point  in  life — 


; '  Was  it  a  friend  or  foe  that  spread  these  U»s  ?* 
•  Nay,  who  but  infants  question  in  such  wise  ? 
'Twas  one  of  my  most  intimate  enemies.' " 


It  is  useless  to  speak  of  cultivating  the 
great  gift  of  friendship  unless  we  make 
clear  to  ourselves  what  we  mean  by  a 
friend.  We  make  connections  and  ac- 
quaintances, and  cail  them  friends.  We  j 
have  few  friendships,  because  we  are  not 
willing  to  pay  the  price  of  fiiendship. 

If  we  think  it  is  not  worth  the  price, 
that  is  another  matter,  and  is  quite  an  in- 
telligible position,  but  we  must  not  use 
the  word  in  different  senses,  and  then 
rail  at  fate  because  there  is  no  miracle  of 
beauty  and  joy  about  our  sort  of  friend- 
ship. Like  all  other  spiritual  blessings  it 
comes  to  all  of  us  at  some  time  or  other, 
and  like  them  is  often  let  slip.  We  have 
the  opportunities,  but  we  do  not  make 
use  of  them.  Most  men  make  friends 
40 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


easily  enough:  few  keep  them.  They  do 
not  give  the  subject  the  care,  and 
thought,  and  trouble,  it  requires  and  de- 
serves. We  want  the  pleasure  of  society, 
without  the  duty.  We  would  like  to  get 
the  good  of  our  friends,  without  burden- 
ing ourselves  with  any  responsibility 
about  keeping  them  friends.  The  com- 
monest mistake  we  make  is  that  we 
spread  our  intercourse  over  a  mass,  and 
have  no  depth  of  heart  left.  We  lament 
that  we  have  no  staunch  and  faithful 
friend,  when  we  have  really  not  expended 
the  love  which  produces  such.  We  want 
to  reap  where  we  have  not  sown,  the 
fatuousness  of  which  we  should  see  as 
soon  as  it  is  mentioned.  "She  that  asks  — 
her  dear  five  hundred  friends  "  (as  Cow- 
per  satirically  describes  a  well-known 
type)  cannot  expect  the  exclusive  affec- 
tion, which  she  has  not  given. 

The  secret  of  friendship  is  just  the  se- 
cret of  all  spiritual  blessing.     The  way  to 
get  is  to  give.     The  selfish  in  the  end  can 
never  get  anything  but  selfishness.    The 
41 


*£Ai 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


Wl\ 


v 


hard  find  hardness  everywhere.     As  you 
mete,  it  is  meted  out  to  you. 

Some  men  have  a  genius  for  friend- 
ship. That  is  because  they  are  open, 
and  responsive,  and  unselfish.  They 
truly  make  the  most  of  life;  for  apart 
from  their  special  joys,  even  intellect  is 
sharpened  by  the  development  of  the  af- 
fections. No  material  success  in  life  is- 
comparable  to  success  in  friendship.  We 
really  do  ourselves  harm  by  our  selfish 
standards.  There  is  an  old  Latin  prov- 
erb,1 expressing  the  worldly  view,  which 
says  that  it  is  not  possible  for  a  man  to 
love  and  at  the  same  time  to  be  wise. 
This  is  only  true  when  wisdom  is  made 
equal  to  prudence  and  selfishness,  and 
when  love  is  made  the  same.  Rather  it 
is  never  given  to  a  man  to  be  wise  in  the 
true  and  noble  sense,  until  he  is  carried 
out  of  himself  in  the  purifying  passion  of 
love,  or  the  generosity  of  friendship. 
The  self-centred  being  cannot  keep 
friends,  even  when  he  makes  them ;  his 

iNon  simul  cuiquam  conceditur,  amare  et  sapere. 
42 


UNIVERSITY   I    1 


OF 

&UfQ 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


Selfish  sensitiveness  is  always  in  the 
yay,  like  a  diseased  nerve  ready  to  be 
Titated. 

The  culture  of  friendship  is  a  duty,  as 
every  gift  represents  a  responsibility.  It 
is  also  a  necessity ;  for  without  watchful 
care  it  can  no  more  remain  with  us  than 
can  any  other  gift.  Without  culture  it  is 
at  best  only  a  potentiality.  We  may  let 
it  slip,  or  we  can  use  it  to  bless  our  lives. 
The  miracle  of  friendship,  which  came 
at  first  with  its  infinite  wonder  and 
beauty,  wears  off,  and  the  glory  fades 
into  the  light  of  common  day.  The 
early  charm  passes,  and  the  soul  forgets 
the  first  exaltation.  We  are  always  in 
danger  of  mistaking  the  common  for  the 
commonplace.  We  must  not  look  upon 
it  merely  as  the  great  luxury  of  life,  or  it 
will  cease  to  be  even  that.  It  begins  with 
emotion,  but  if  it  is  to  remain  it  must  be-' 
come  a  habit.  Habit  is  fixed  when  an 
accustomed  thing  is  organized  into  life; 
and,  whatever  be  the  genesis  of  friend- 
ship, it  must  become  a  habit,  or  it  is  in 
43 


¥&>A 


ojhuji  mii^mmnj  wjH^mjmmjuujMjHwa  aganagig 


^ 


danger  of  passing  away  as  other  impres- 
sions  have  done  before. 

Friendship  needs  delicate  handling. 
We  can  ruin  it  by  stupid  blundering  at 
the  very  birth,  and  we  can  kill  it  by 
neglect.  It  is  not  every  flower  that  has 
vitality  enough  to  grow  in  stony  ground. 
Lack  of  reticence,  which  is  only  the  out- 
ward sign  of  lack  of  reverence,  is  respon- 
sible for  the  death  of  many  a  fair  friend- 
ship. Worse  still,  it  is  often  blighted  at 
the  very  beginning  by  the  insatiable  de- 
sire for  piquancy  in  talk,  which  can  for- 
get the  sacredness  of  confidence.  "An 
acquaintance  grilled,  scored,  devilled,  and 
served  with  mustard  and  cayenne  pep- 
per, excites  the  appetite;  whereas  a  slice 
of  cold  friend  with  currant  jelly  is  but  a 
sickly,  unrelishing  meat."1  Nothing  is 
given  to  the  man  who  is  not  worthy  to 
possess  it,  and  the  shallow  heart  can 
never  know  the  joy  of  a  friendship,  for 
the  keeping  of  which  he  is  not  able  to 
fulfill  the  essential  conditions.     Here  also 

*  Thackeray,  Roundabout  Papers. 

44 


•   1    l    ■  ,.,  ■  ■?  -'."■"■  ■ 


T 


it  is  true  that  from  the  man  that  hath 
not,  is  taken  away  even  that  which  he 
hath. 

The  method  for  the  culture  of  friend- 
ship finds  its  best  and  briefest  summary 
in  the  Golden  Rule.  To  do  to,  and  for, 
your  friend  what  you  would  have  him 
do  to,  and  for,  you,  is  a  simple  compen- 
dium of  the  whole  duty  of  friendship. 
The  very  first  principle  of  friendship  is 
that  it  is  a  mutual  thing,  as  among  spirit- 
ual equals,  and  therefore  it  claims  reci- 
procity, mutual  confidence  and  faithful- 
ness. There  must  be  sympathy  to  keep 
in  touch  with  each  other,  but  sympathy 
needs  to  be  constantly  exercised.  It  is  a 
channel  of  communication,  which  has  to 
be  kept  open,  or  it  will  soon  be  clogged 
and  closed. 

The  practice  of  sympathy  may  mean 
the  cultivation  of  similar  tastes,  though 
that  will  almost  naturally  follow  from 
the  fellowship.  But  to  cultivate  similar 
tastes  does  not  imply  either  absorption 
of  one  of  the  partners,  or  the  identity  of 
4^ 


Ml 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


IH  Vi^im  ju  ku  WLJHi  vbuMlim'gll^vttrm 


^m 


[M 


both.  Rather,  part  of  the  charm  of  the 
intercourse  lies  in  the  difference,  which 
exists  in  the  midst  of  agreement.  What 
is  essential  is  that  there  should  be  a  real 
desire  and  a  genuine  effort  to  understand 
each  other.  It  is  well  worth  while  tak- 
ing pains  to  preserve  a  relationship  so 
full  of  blessing  to  both. 

Here,  as  in  all  connections  among  men, 
there  is  also  ample  scope  for  patience. 
When  we  think  of  our  own  need  for  the 
constant  exercise  of  this  virtue,  we  will 
admit  its  necessity  for  others.  After  the 
first  flush  of  communion  has  passed,  we 
must  see  in  a  friend  things  which  detract 
from  his  worth,  and  perhaps  things  which 
irritate  us.  This  is  only  to  say  that  no 
man  is  perfect.  With  tact,  and  tender- 
ness, and  patience,  it  may  be  given  us  to 
help  to  remove  what  may  be  flaws  in  a 
fine  character,  and  in  any  case  it  is  fool- 
ish  to  forget  the  great  virtues  of  our 
friend  in  fretful  irritation  at  a  few  blem- 
ishes. We  can  keep  the  first  ideal  in  our 
memory,  even  if  we  know  that  it  is  not 
46 


■■*  .*  --  HTawjwu. M*nrnan3i%st 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


yet  an  actual  fact.  We  must  not  let  our 
intercourse  be  coarsened,  but  must  keep 
it  sweet  and  delicate,  that  it  may  remain 
a  refuge  from  the  coarse  world,  a  sanc- 
tuary where  we  leave  criticism  outside, 
and  can  breathe  freely. 

Trust  is  the  first  requisite  for  making  \ 
a  friend.  How  can  we  be  anything  but ' 
alone,  if  our  attitude  to  men  is  one  of 
armed  neutrality,  if  we  are  suspicious, 
and  assertive,  and  querulous,  and  over- 
cautious in  our  advances  ?  Suspicion  kills 
friendship.  There  must  be  some  mag- 
nanimity and  openness  of  mind,  before  a 
friendship  can  be  formed.  We  must  be 
willing  to  give  ourselves  freely  and  unre- 
servedly. 

Some  find  it  easier  than  others  to  make 
advances,  because  they  are  naturally  more 
trustful.  A  beginning  has  to  be  made 
somehow,  and  if  we  are  moved  to  enter 
into  personal  association  with  another, 
we  must  not  be  too  cautious  in  display- 
ing our  feeling.  If  we  stand  off  in  cold 
reserve,  the  ice,  which  trembled  to  thaw- 
47 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ing,  is  gripped  again  by  the  black  hand 
of  frost.  There  may  be  a  golden  mo- 
ment which  has  been  lost  through  a 
foolish  reserve.  We  are  so  afraid  of 
giving  ourselves  away  cheaply — and  it 
is  a  proper  enough  feeling,  the  value  of 
which  we  learn  through  sad  experience 
— but  on  the  whole  perhaps  the  warm 
nature,  which  acts  on  impulse,  is  of  a 
higher  type,  than  the  over-cautious  na- 
ture, ever  on  the  watch  lest  it  commit 
itself.  We  can  do  nothing  with  each 
other,  we  cannot  even  do  business  with 
each  other,  without  a  certain  amount  of 
trust.  Much  more  necessary  is  it  in  the 
beginning  of  a  deeper  intercourse. 
And  if  trust  is  the  first  requisite  for 
aking  a  friend,  faithfulness  is  the  first 
requisite  for  keeping  him.  The  way  to 
have  a  friend  is  to  be  a  friend.  Faithful- 
ness is  the  fruit  of  trust.  We  must  be 
ready  to  lay  hold  of  every  opportunity 
which  occurs  of  serving  our  friend.  Life 
is  made  up  to  most  of  us  of  little  things, 
and  many  a  friendship  withers  through 
48 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


sheer  neglect.  Hearts  are  alienated,  be- 
cause each  is  waiting  for  some  great  oc- 
casion for  displaying  affection.  The 
great  spiritual  value  of  friendship  lies  in 
the  opportunities  it  afforded  for  service, 
and  if  these  are  neglected  it  is  only  to  be 
expected  that  the  gift  should  be  taken 
from  us.  Friendship,  which  begins  with 
sentiment,  will  not  live  and  thrive  on 
sentiment.  There  must  be  loyalty,  which 
finds  expression  in  service.  It  is  not  the 
greatness  of  the  help,  or  the  intrinsic 
value  of  the  gift,  which  gives  it  its  worth, 
but  the  evidence  it  is  of  love  and  thought- 
fulness.  *■ 

Attention  to  detail  is  the  secret  of  suc- 
cess in  every  sphere  of  life,  and  little 
kindnesses,  little  acts  of  considerateness, 
little  appreciations,  little  confidences,  are 
all  that  most  of  us  are  called  on  to  per- 
form, but  they  are  all  that  are  needed  to 
keep  a  friendship  sweet.  Such  thought- 
fulness  keeps  our  sentiment  in  evidence 
to  both  parties.  If  we  never  show  our 
kind  feeling,  what  guarantee  has  our 
49 


1M 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


friend,  or  even  ourself,  that  it  exists? 
Faithfulness  in  deed  is  the  outward  re- 
sult of  constancy  of  soul,  which  is  the 
rarest,  and  the  greatest,  of  virtues.  If 
there  has  come  to  us  the  miracle  of 
friendship,  if  there  is  a  soul  to  which  our 
soul  has  been  drawn,  it  is  surely  worth 
v/hile  being  loyal  and  true.  Through 
the  little  occasions  for  helpfulness,  we 
are  training  for  the  great  trial,  if  it  should 
ever  come,  when  the  fabric  of  friendship 
will  be  tested  to  the  very  foundation. 
The  culture  of  friendship,  and  its  abiding 
worth,  never  found  nobler  expression 
than  in  the  beautiful  proverb,1  "A  friend 
loveth  at  all  times,  and  is  a  brother  born 
for  adversity."  ^/ 

Most  men  do  not  deserve  such  a  gift 
from  heaven.  They  look  upon  it  as  a 
convenience,  and  accept  the  privilege  of 
love,  without  the  responsibility  of  it. 
They  even  use  their  friends  for  their  own 
selfish  purposes,  and  so  never  have  true 
friends.    Some  men  shed  friends  at  every 

1  Proverbs  xvii.  17,  R.  V.  margia 
50 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


step  they  rise  in  the  social  scale.  It  is 
mean  and  contemptible  to  merely  use 
men,  so  long  as  they  further  one's  per- 
sonal interests.  But  there  is  a  nemesis 
on  such  heartlessness.  To  such  can 
never  come  the  ecstasy  and  comfort  of 
mutual  trust.  This  worldly  policy  can 
never  truly  succeed.  It  stands  to  reason 
that  they  cannot  have  brothers  born  for 
adversity,  and  cannot  count  on  the  joy  of 
the  love  that  loveth  at  all  times;  for  they 
do  not  possess  the  quality  which  secures 
it.  To  act  on  the  worldly  policy,  to  treat 
a  friend  as  if  he  might  become  an  enemy, 
is  of  course  to  be  friendless.  To  sacri- 
fice a  tried  and  trusted  friend  for  any 
personal  advantage  of  gain  or  position,  is 
to  deprive  our  own  heart  of  the  capacity 
for  friendship. 

The  passion  for  novelty  will  sometimes 
lead  a  man  to  act  like  this.  Some  shallow 
minds  are  ever  afflicted  by  a  craving  for 
new  experiences.  They  sit  very  loosely 
to  the  past.  They  are  the  easy  victims 
of  the  untried,  and  yearn  perpetually  for 
51 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


novel  sensations.  In  this  matter  of 
friendship  they  are  ready  to  forsake  the 
old  for  the  new.  They  are  always  find- 
ing a  swan  in  every  goose  they  meet. 
They  have  their  reward  in  a  widowed 
heart.  Says  Shakespeare  in  his  great 
manner, — 

"  The  friends  thou  hast  and  their  adoption  tried 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hoops  of  steel, 
But  do  not  dull  thy  palm  with  entertainment 
Of  each  new-hatched,  unfledged  comrade." 

The  Culture  of  friendship  must  pass 
into  the  Consecration  of  friendship,  if  it 
is  to  reach  its  goal.  It  is  a  natural  evo- 
lution. Friendship  cannot  be  permanent 
unless  it  becomes  spiritual.  There  must 
be  fellowship  in  the  deepest  things  of  the 
soul,  community  in  the  highest  thoughts, 
sympathy  with  the  best  endeavors  We 
are  bartering  the  priceless  boon,  if  we 
are  looking  on  friendship  merely  as  a 
luxury,  and  not  as  a  spiritual  oppor- 
tunity. It  is,  or  can  be,  an  occasion  for 
growing  in  grace,  for  learning  love,  for 
training  the  heart  to  patience  and  faith, 
52 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


for  knowing  the  joy  of  humble  service. 
We  are  throwing  away  our  chance,  if  we 
are  not  striving  to  be  an  inspiring  and  -" 
healthful  environment  to  our  friend.  We 
are  called  to  be  our  best  to  our  friend, 
that  he  may  be  his  best  to  us,  bringing 
out  what  is  highest  and  deepest  in  the 
nature  of  both. 

The  culture  of  friendship  is  one  of  the 
approved  instruments  of  culture  of  the 
heart,  without  which  a  man  has  not 
truly  come  into  his  kingdom.  It  is  often 
only  the  beginning,  but  through  tender 
and  careful  culture  it  may  be  an  educa- 
tion for  the  larger  life  of  love.  It  broad- 
ens out  in  ever-widening  circles,  from 
the  particular  to  the  general,  and  from 
the  general  to  the  universal — from  the  in- 
dividual to  the  social,  and  from  the  social 
to  God.  The  test  of  religion  is  ultimately 
a  very  simple  one.  If  we  do  not  love 
those  whom  we  have  seen,  we  cannot 
love  those  whom  we  have  not  seen.  All 
our  sentiment  about  people  at  a  distance, 
and  our  heart-stirrings  for  the  distressed 
53 


and  oppressed,  and  our  prayers  for  the 
heathen,  are  pointless  and  fraudulent,  if 
we  are  neglecting  the  occasions  for  serv- 
ice lying  to  our  hand.  If  we  do  not  love 
our  brethren  here,  how  can  we  love  our 
brethren  elsewhere,  except  as  a  pious 
sentimentality  ?  And  if  we  do  not  love 
those  we  have  seen,  how  can  we  love 
God  whom  we  have  not  seen  ? 

This  is  the  highest  function  of  friend- 
ship, and  is  the  reason  why  it  needs 
thoughtful  culture.  We  should  be  led  to 
God  by  the  joy  of  our  lives  as  well  as  by 
the  sorrow,  by  the  light  as  well  as  by  the 
darkness,  by  human  intercourse  as  well 
as  by  human  loneliness.  He  is  the  Giver 
of  every  good  gift;  We  wound  His 
heart  of  love,  when  we  sin  against  love. 
The  more,  we  know  of  Christ's  spirit, 
and  the  more  we  think  of  the  meaning 
of  God's  fathomless  grace,  the  more  will 
we  be  convinced  that  the  way  to  please 
the  Father  and  to  follow  the  Son  is  to 
cultivate  the  graces  of  kindliness  and 
gentleness  and  tenderness,  to  give  our- 
54 


THE  CULTURE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


selves  to  the  culture  of  the  heart.  Not  in 
the  ecclesiastical  arena,  not  in  polemic 
for  a  creed,  not  in  self-assertion  and  dis- 
putings,  do  we  please  our  Master  best, 
but  in  the  simple  service  of  love.  To 
seek  the  good  of  men  is  to  seek  the  glory 
of  God.  They  are  not  two  things,  but 
one  and  the  same.  To  be  a  strong  hand 
in  the  dark  to  another  in  the  time  of 
need,  to  be  a  cup  of  strength  to  a  human 
soul  in  a  crisis  of  weakness,  is  to  know 
the  glory  of  life.  To  be  a  true  friend, 
saving  his  faith  in  man,  and  making  him 
believe  in  the  existence  of  love,  is  to  save 
his  faith  in  God.  And  such  service  is 
possible  for  all.  We  need  not  wait  for 
the  great  occasion  and  for  the  exceptional 
opportunity.  We  can  never  be  without 
our  chance,  if  we  are  ready  to  keep  the 
miracle  of  love  green  in  our  hearts  by 
humble  service. 


'  The  primal  duties  shine  aloft  like  stars. 
The  charities  that  soothe  and  heal  and  bless, 
Are  scattered  at  the  feet  of  man  like  flowers." 


55 


*  Two  are  better  than  one  ;  because  they  have  a  good  reward 
for  their  labor.  For  if  they  fall,  the  one  will  lift  up  his  fel- 
low :  but  woe  to  him  that  is  alone  when  he  falleth  ;  for  he  hath 
not  another  to  help  him  up.  And  if  one  prevail  against  him, 
two  shall  withstand  him  ;  and  a  threefold  cord  is  not  quickly 
broken." — Ecclesiastes. 

"  O  friend,  my  bosom  said, 

Through  thee  alone  the  sky  is  arched, 

Through  thee  the  rose  is  red, 

All  things  through  thee  take  nobler  form 

And  look  beyond  the  earth, 

And  is  the  mill-round  of  our  fate, 

A  sun-path  in  thy  worth. 

Me  too  thy  nobleness  has  taught 

To  master  my  despair  ; 

The  fountains  of  my  hidden  life 

Are  through  thy  friendship  fair. .** 

Emerson. 


■/."•:.;;■;  BBSE      "  ^-:^>>agi£KSE 


THE        FRUITS 
OF   FRIENDSHIP 


N  our  utilitarian  age  things  are 
judged  by  their  practical  value. 
Men  ask  of  everything,  What  is 
its  use?  Nothing  is  held  to  be 
outside  criticism,  neither  the  law  because 
of  its  authority,  nor  religion  because  of 
its  sacredness-  Every  relationship  in  life 
also  has  been  questioned,  and  is  asked  to 
show  the  reason  of  its  existence.  Even 
some  relationships  like  marriage,  for  long 
held  to  be  above  question,  are  put  into 
the  crucible. 

On    the    whole    it    is   a  good  spirit, 
though  it  can  be  abused  and  carried  to 
an  absurd  extreme.     Criticism  is  inevita- 
ble, and  ought  to  be  welcomed,  provided 
59 


^ 


MM1JW  HI!  I  . 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


we  are  careful  about  the  true  standard  to 
apply.  When  we  judge  a  thing  by  its 
use,  we  must  not  have  a  narrow  view  of 
what  utility  is.  Usefulness  to  man  is  not 
confined  to  mere  material  values.  The 
common  standards  of  the  market-place 
cannot  be  applied  to  the  whole  of  life. 
The  things  which  cannot  be  bought  can- 
not be  sold,  and  the  keenest  valuator 
would  be  puzzled  to  put  a  price  on  some 
of  these  unmarketable  wares. 
\S  When  we  seek  to  show  what  are  the 
fruits  of  friendship,  we  may  be  said  to 
put  ourselves  in  line  with  the  critical 
spirit  of  our  age.  But  even  if  it  were 
proven  that  a  man  could  make  more  of 
his  life  materially  by  himself,  if  he  gave 
no  hostages  to  fortune,  it  would  not  fol- 
low that  it  is  well  to  disentangle  oneself 
from  the  common  human  bonds;  for  our 
caveat  would  here  apply,  that  utility  is 
larger  than  mere  material  gain. 

But  even  from  this  point  of  view  friend- 
ship justifies  itself.    Two  are  better  than 
one;  for  they  have  a  good  reward  for 
60 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


their  labor.  ■!  The  principle  of  association 
in  business"  is  now  accepted  universally. 
It  is  found  even  to  pay,  to  share  work 
and  profit.  Most  of  the  world's  business 
is  done  by  companies,  or  partnerships,  or 
associated  endeavor  of  some  kind.  And 
the  closer  the  intimacy  between  the  men 
so  engaged,  the  intimacy  of  common  de- 
sires and  common  purposes,  and  mutual 
respect  and  confidence,  and,  if  possible, 
friendship,  the  better  chance  there  is  for 
success.  Two  are  better  than  one  from 
the  point  of  view  even  of  the  reward 
of  each,  and  a  threefold  cord  is  not 
quickly  broken,  when  a  single  strand 
would  snap.  *n 

CWhen  men  first  learned,  even  in  its  v 
most  rudimentary  sense,  that  union  is 
strength,  the  dawn  of  civilization  began. 
For  offence  and  for  defence,  the  princi- 
ple of  association  early  proved  itself  the 
fittest  for  survival. )  The  future  is  al-  - 
ways  with  Isaac,  not  with  Ishmael — with 
Jacob,  not  with  Esau.  In  everything  this 
is  seen,  in  the  struggle  of  races,  or  trade. 


■nn 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


or  ideas.  Even  as  a  religious  method  to 
make  an  impact  on  the  world,  it  is  trueD 
John  of  the  Desert  touched  here  a  life, 
and  there  a  life ;  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  seek- 
ing disciples,  founding  a  society,  moved 
the  world  to  its  heart. 

It  is  not  necessary  to  labor  this  point, 
that  two  are  better  than  one,  to  a  com- 
mercial age  like  ours,  which,  whatever  it 
does  not  know,  at  least  knows  its  arith- 
metic. We  would  say  that  it  is  self-evi- 
dent, that  by  the  law  of  addition  it  is 
double,  and  by  the  law  of  multiplication 
twice  the  number.  But  it  is  not  so  exact 
as  that,  nor  so  self-evident.!  When  we 
are  dealing  with  men,  our  ready-reckoner 
rules  do  not  work  out  correctly.  In  this 
region  one  and  one  are  not  always  two. 
They  are  sometimes  more  than  two,  and 
sometimes  less  than  two.  (  Union  of  all 
kinds,  which  may  be  strength,  may  be 
weakness.)  It  was  not  till  Gideon  weeded 
out  his  army,  once  and  twice,  that  he  was 
promised  victory.  (The  fruits  of  friend- 
ship may  be  corrupting,  and  unspeakably 
62 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


evil  to  the  life.)  The  reward  of  the  labor 
of  two  may  be  less  than  that  of  one. 
The  boy  pulling  a  barrow  is  lucky  if  he 
get  another  boy  to  shove  behind,  but  if  the 
boy  behind  not  only  ceases  to  shove,  but 
sits  on  the  barrow,  the  last  end  is  worse 
than  the  first.  A  threefold  cord  with  two 
of  the  strands  rotten  is  worse  than  a  single 
sound  strand,  for  it  deceives  into  putting 
too  much  weight  on  it. 

In  social  economics  it  is  evident  that  so- 
ciety is  not  merely  the  sum  of  the  units 
that  compose  it.  Two  are  better  than 
one,  not  merely  because  the  force  is 
doubled.  It  may  even  be  said  that  two 
are  better  than  two.  Two  together  mean 
more  than  two  added  singly  ;  for  a  new 
element  is  introduced  which  increases; 
the  power  of  each  individually.  When 
the  man  Friday  came  into  the  life  of  Rob- 
inson Crusoe,  he  brought  with  him  a 
great  deal  more  than  his  own  individual 
value,  which  with  his  lower  civilization 
would  no£  be  very  much.  But  to  Robin- 
son Crusoe  he  represented  society,  and 
63 


**& 


all  the  possibilities  of  social  polity.  It 
meant  also  the  satisfaction  of  the  social 
instincts,  the  play  of  the  affections,  and 
made  Crusoe  a  different  man.  The  two 
living  together  were  more  thaa  the  two 
living  on  different  desert  islands.) 
/iThe  truth  of  this  strange  contradiction 
of  the  multiplication  table  is  seen  in  the 
relationship  of  friends.  Each  gives  to  the 
other,  and  each  receives,  and  the  fruit  of 
the  intercourse  is  more  than  either  in  him- 
self possesses.  Every  individual  relation- 
ship has  contact  with  a  universal.)  To 
reach  out  to  the  fuller  life  of  love  is  a 
divine  enchantment,  because  it  leads  to 
more  than  itself,  and  is  the  open  door 
into  the  mystery  of  life.  We  feel  our- 
selves united  to  the  race  and  no  longer 
isolated  units,  but  in  the  sweep  of  the 
great  social  forces  which  mould  mankind. 
Every  bond  which  binds  man  to  man  is 
a  new  argument  for  the  permanence  of 
life  itself,  and  gives  a  new  insight  into  its 
meaning.  Love  is  the  pledge  and  the 
promise  of  the  future. 
64 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


Besides  this  cosmic  and  perhaps  some- 
what shadowy  benefitj^there  are  many 
practical  fruits  of  friendship  to  the  indi- 
vidual. These  may  be  classified  and  sub- 
divided almost  endlessly,  and  indeed  in 
every  special  friendship  the  fruits  of  it 
will  differ  according  to  the  character  and 
closeness  of  the  tie,  and  according  to  the 
particular  gifts  of  each  of  the  partners. 
One  man  can  give  to  his  friend  some 
quality  of  sympathy,  or  some  kind  of 
help,  or  can  supply  some  social  need 
which  is  lacking  in  his  character  or  cir- 
cumstances. Perhaps  it  is  not  possible 
to  get  a  better  division  of  the  subject  than 
the  three  noble  fruits  of  friendship  which 
Bacon  enumerates — peace  in  the  affec- 
tions, support  of  the  judgment,  and  aid 
in  all  actions  and  occasions. ) 


, 


First  of  all  there  is  the  satisfaction  of 

he  heart     We  cannot  live  a  self-centred 

life,  without  feeling  that  we  are  missing 

the  true  glory  of  life.     We  were  made 

for  social  intercourse,  if  only  that  the 

65 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


highest  qualities  of  *our  nature  might  have 
an  opportunity  for  development.  The 
joy,  which  a  true  friendship  gives,  re- 
veals the  existence  of  the  want  of  it,  per- 
haps  previously  unfelt.  It  is  a  sin  against* 
ourselves  to  let  our  affections  wither. 
This  sense  of  incompleteness  is  an  argu- 
ment in  favor  of  its  possible  satisfaction* 
our  need  is  an  argument  for  its  fulfillment?^ 
Our  hearts  demand  love,  as  truly  as  our  ^ 
bodies  demand  food.  We  cannot  live 
among  men,  suspicious,  and  careful  of 
our  own  interests,  and  fighting  for  our 
own  hand,  without  doing  dishonor  and 
hurt  to  our  own  nature.  To  be  for  our- 
selves puts  the  whole  world  against  us. 
To  harden  our  heart  hardens  the  heart  of 
the  universe. 

/We  need  sympathy,  and  therefore  we 
crave  for  friendship.  Even  the  most  per- 
fect of  the  sons  of  men  felt  this  need  of 
intercourse  of  the  heart.  Christ,  in  one 
aspect  the  most  self-contained  of  men, 
showed  this  human  longing  all  through 
His  life.     He  ever  desired  opportunities 


-^2^£!Z2vj^-^_ 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


for  enlargement  of  heart — in  His  disci- 
ples, in  an  inner  circle  within  the  circle, 
in  the  household  of  Bethany.  "Will  ye 
also  go  away?"  He  asked  in  the  crisis 
of  His  career.  "Could  ye  not  watch 
with  Me  one  hour?"  He  sighed  in 
His  great  agony.  He  was  perfectly  hu- 
man, and  therefore  felt  _the  lack  of 
friendship.  The  higher  our  relation- 
ships with  each  other  are,  the  closer  is 
the  intercourse  demanded.  Highest  of 
all  in  the  things  of  the  soul,  we  feel  that 
the  true  Christian  life  cannot  be  lived  in 
the  desert,  but  must  be  a  life  among  men, 
and  this  because  it  is  a  life  of  joy  as  well 
as  of  service.  We  feel  that,  for  the 
rounding  of  our  life  and  the  completion 
of  our  powers,  we  need  intercourse  with 
our  kind.  Stunted  affections  dwarf  the 
whole  man.  We  live  by  admiration, 
hope,  and  love,  and  these  can  be  devel- 
oped only  in  the  social  life.  ^ 

fThe  sweetest  and  most  stable  pleasures 
also  are  never  selfish.     They  are  derived 
from  fellowship,  from  common  tastes. 
67 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


and  mutual  sympathy.  Sympathy  is  not 
a  quality  merely  needed  in  adversity.  It 
is  needed  as  much  when  the  sun  shines. 
Indeed,  it  is  more  easily  obtained  in  ad- 
versity than  in  prosperity.  It  is  compar- 
atively easy  to  sympathize  with  a  friend's 
failure,  when  we  are  not  so  true-hearted 
about  his  success.  When  a  man  is  down 
in  his  luck,  he  can  be  sure  of  at  least  a 
certain  amount  of  good-fellowship  to 
which  he  can  appeal.  It  is  difficult  to 
keep  a  little  touch  of  malice,  or  envy, 
out  of  congratulations.  It  is  sometimes 
easier  to  weep  with  those  who  weep, 
than  to  rejoice  with  those  who  rejoice. 
This  difficulty  is  felt  not  with  people 
above  us,  or  with  little  connection  with 
us,  but  with  our  equals.  When  a  friend 
succeeds,  there  may  be  a  certain  regret 
which  has  not  always  an  evil  root,  but  is 
due  to  a  fear  that  he  is  getting  beyond 
our  reach,  passing  out  of  our  sphere,  and 
perhaps  will  not  need  or  desire  our  friend- 
ship so  much  as  before.  J  It  is  a  danger- 
ous feeling  to  give  way  to,  but  up  to  a 
68 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


certain  point  is  natural  and  legitimate. 
/A  perfect  friendship  would  not  have 
room  for  such  grudging  sympathy, 
but  would  rejoice  more  for  the  other's 
success  than  for  his  own.  The  en- 
vious, jealous  man  never  can  be  a 
friend.  His  mean  spirit  of  detraction 
and  insinuating  ill-will  kills  friendship 
at  its  birth.l  Plutarch  records  a  witty 
remark  about  Plistarchus,  who  was 
told  that  a  notorious  railer  had  spoken 
well  of  him.  "I'll  lay  my  life,"  said 
he,  "somebody  has  told  him  I  am 
dead,  for  he  can  speak  well  of  no  man 
living." 

J  For  true  satisfaction  of  the  heart,  there 
must  be  a  fount  of  sympathy  from  which 
to  draw  in  all  the  vicissitudes  of  life. 
Sorrow  asks  for  sympathy,  aches  to  let 
it's  griefs  be  known  and  shared  by  a  kin- 
dred spirit.  To  find  such,  is  to  dispel 
the  loneliness  from  life.  1  o  have  a  heart 
which  we  can  trust,  and  into  which  we 
can  pour  our  griefs  and  our  doubts  and 
our  fears,  is  already  to  take  the  edge  from 
69 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


grief,  and  the  sting  from  doubt,  and  the 
shade  from  fear) 

C  Joy  also  demands  that  its  joy  should  be 
Shared.  The  man  who  has  found  his 
sheep  that  was  lost  calls  together  his 
neighbors,  and  bids  them  rejoice  with 
him  because  he  has  found  the  sheep  that 
was  lost.  Joy  is  more  social  than  grieO 
Some  forms  of  grief  desire  only  to  creep 
away  into  solitude  like  a  wounded  beast 
to  its  lair,  to  suffer  alone  and  to  die  alone. 
But  joy  finds  its  counterpart  in  the  sun- 
shine and  the  flowers  and  the  birds  and 
the  little  children,  and  enters  ^easily  into 
all  the  movements  of  life.  Sympathy 
will  respond  to  a  friend's  gladness,  as 
well  as  vibrate  to  his  grief.  A  simple 
generous  friendship  will  thus  add  to  the 
joy,  and  will  divide  the  sorrow./ 
/The  religious  life,  in  spite  of  all  the  un- 
natural experiments  of  monasticism  and 
all  its  kindred  ascetic  forms,  is  preemi- 
nently a  life  of  friendship.  It  is  indi- 
vidual in  its  root,  and  social  in  its  fruits. 
It  is  when  two  or  three  are  gathered  to- 
70 


^wflil 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


gether  that  religion  becomes  a  fact  for 
the  world.  The  joy  of  religion  will  not 
be  hid  and  buried  in  a  man's  own  heard 
11  Come,  see  a  man  that  told  me  all  that 
ever  I  did,"  is  the  natural  outcome  of  the 
first  wonder  and  the  first  faith.  C  It 
spreads  from  soul  to  soul  by  the  impact 
of  soul  on  soul,  from  the  original  impact 
of  the  great  soul  of  Goay 
(Christ's  ideal  is  the  ideal  of  a  Kingdom, 
men  banded  together  in  a  common  cause, 
under  common  laws,  serving  the  same 
purpose  of  love.  It  is  meant  to  take  ef- 
fect upon  man  in  all  his  social  relation- 
ships, in  the  home,  in  the  city,  in  the 
state.  Its  greatest  triumphs  have  been 
made  through  friendship,  and  it  in  turn 
has  ennobled  and  sanctified  the  bond]) 
The  growth  of  the  Kingdom  depends  on  — 
the  sanctified  working  of  the  natural  ties 
among  men.  It  was  so  at  the  very  start; 
John  the  Baptist  pointed  out  the  Christ  — 
to  John  the  future  Apostle  and  to  An- 
drew; Andrew  findeth  his  own  brother 
Simon  Peter;  Philip  findeth  Nathaniel; 
71 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


and  so  society  through  its  network  of  re- 
lations took  into  its  heart  the  new  mes- 
sage. The  man  who  has  been  healed 
must  go  and  tell  those  who  are  at  home, 
must  declare  it  to  his  friends,  and  seek 
that  they  also  should  share  in  his  great 
discovery. 

("The  very  existence  of  the  Church  as  a 
body  of  believers  is  due  to  this  necessity 
of  our  nature,  which  demands  oppor- 
tunity for  the  interchange  of  Christian 
sentiment.  The  deeper  the  feeling,  the 
greater  is  the  joy  of  sharing  it  with 
another.  There  is  a  strange  felicity,  a 
wondrous  enchantment,  which  comes 
from  true  intimacy  of  heart,  and  close 
communion  of  soul,  and  the  result  is 
more  than  mere  fleeting  joy.  When  it  is 
shared  in  the  deepest  thoughts  and  high- 
est aspirations,  when  it  is  built  on  a  com- 
mon faith,  and  lives  by  a  common  hope, 
it  brings  perfect  peace.  No  friendship 
has  done  its  work  until  it  reaches  the 
supremest  satisfaction  of  spiritual  com- 
munion. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


V  Besides  this  satisfaction  of  the  heart, 
friendship  also  gives  satisfaction  of  the 
mind.  Most  men  have  a  certain  natural 
diffidence  in  coming  to  conclusions  and 
forming  opinions  for  themselves.  We 
rarely  feel  confident,  until  we  have  se- 
cured the  agreement  of  others  in  whom 
we  trust.  There  is  always  a  personal 
equation  in  all  our  judgments,  so  that  we 
feel  that  they  require  to  be  amended  by 
comparison  with  those  of  others.  Doc- 
tors ask  for  a  consultation,  when  a  case 
becomes  critical.  We  all  realize  the  ad- 
vantage of  taking  counsel.)  To  ask  for 
advice  is  a  benefit,  whether  we  follow 
the  advice  or  no.  Indeed,  the  best  bene- 
fit often  comes  from  the  opportunity  of 
testing  our  own  opinion  and  finding  it 
valid.!  Sometimes  the  very  statement  of 
the  case  is  enough  to  prove  it  one  thing 
or  the  other.  An  advantage  is  reaped 
from  a  sympathetic  listener,  even  al- 
though our  friend  be  unable  to  elu- 
cidate the  matter  by  his  special  sagacity 
or  experience.  /Friends  in  counsel  gain 
V      73 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


\ 


much  intellectually.  They  acquire  some- 
thing approaching  to  a  standai  J  of  judg- 
ment, and  are  enabled  to  classify  opin- 
ions, and  to  make  up  the  mind  more 
accurately  and  securely.  Through  talk- 
ing a  subject  over  with  another,  one 
gets  fresh  side-lights  into  it,  new 
avenues  open  up,  and  the  whole  ques- 
tion becomes  larger  and  richer./  Bacon 
says,  "  Friendship'  maketh  daylight  in 
the  understanding,  out  of  darkness  and 
confusion  of  thoughts:  neither  is  this 
to  be  understood  only  of  faithful 
counsel,  which  a  man  receiveth  from 
his  friend;  but  before  you  come  to 
that,  certain  it  is,  that  whosoever  hath 
his  mind  fraught  with  many  thoughts, 
his  wits  and  understanding  do  clarify 
and  break  up  in  the  communicating 
and  discoursing  with  another;  he  toss- 
eth  his  thoughts  more  easily;  he  mar- 
shalleth  them  more  orderly;  he  seeth 
how  they  look  when  they  are  turned 
into  words;  finally  he  waxeth  wiser 
than  himself;  and  that  more  by  an 
74 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


hour's  discourse  than  by  a  day's  medita- 
tion." 

We  must  have  been  struck  with  the 
brilliancy  of  our  own  conversation  and 
the  profundity  of  our  own  thoughts, 
when  we  shared  them  with  one,  with 
whom  we  were  in  sympathy  at  the  time. 
The  brilliancy  was  not  ours;  it  was  the 
reflex  action  which  was  the  result  of  the 
communion.  That  is  why  the  effect  of 
different  people  upon  us  is  different,  one 
making  us  creep  into  our  shell  and  mak- 
ing us  unable  almost  to  utter  a  word;  an- 
other through  some  strange  magnetism 
enlarging  the  bounds  of  our  whole  being 
and  drawing  the  best  out  of  us.  The- 
true  insight  after  all  is  love.  It  clarifies 
the  intellect,  and  opens  the  eyes  to  much 
that  was  obscure. 

Besides  the  subjective  influence,  there 
may  be  the  great  gain  of  honest  counsel. 
rA  faithful  friend  can  be  trusted  not  io 
speak  merely  soft  words  of  flatteryXlt 
is  often  the  spectator  who  sees  most  of 
the  game,  and,  if  the  spectator  is  at  the 
75 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


same  time  keenly  interested  in  us,  he  can 
have  a  more  unbiased  opinion  than  we 
can  possibly  have.  He  may  have  to  say 
that  which  may  wound  our  self-esteem; 
he  may  have  to  speak  for  correction 
rather  than  for  commendation;  but 
"Faithful  are  the  wounds  of  a  friend." 
The  flatterer  will  take  good  care  not  to 
offend  our  susceptibilities  by  too  many 
shocks  of  wholesome  truth-telling;  but  a 
friend  will  seek  our  good,  even  if  he 
must  say  the  thing  we  hate  to  hear  at  the 
time.J 

(  This  does  not  mean  that  a  friend  should 
always  be  what  is  called  plain-spoken. 
Many  take  advantage  of  what  they  call  a 
true  interest  in  our  welfare,  in  order  to 
rub  gall  into  our  wounds.  The  man  who 
boasts  of  his  frankness  and  of  his  hatred 
of  flattery,  is  usually  not  frank — but  only 
brutal.  lA  true  friend  will  never  need- 
lessly hurt,  but  also  will  never  let  slip  oc- 
casions through  cowardice.  To  speak 
the  truth  in  love  takes  off  the  edge  of  un- 
pleasantness, which  so  often  is  found  in 

76 


J^ 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


truth-speaking.  And  however  the  wound 
may  smart,  in  the  end  we  are  thankful  for 
the  faithfulness  which  caused  it.  ''Let 
the  righteous  smite  me;  it  shall  be  a 
kindness:  and  let  him  reprove  me;  it 
shall  be  an  excellent  oil,  which  shall  not 

reak  my  head." 
In  our  relations  with  each  other,  there 
is  usually  more  advantage  to  be  reaped 
from  friendly  encouragement,  than  from 
friendly  correction.  True  criticism  does 
not  consist,  as  so  many  critics  seem  to 
think,  in  depreciation,  but  in  apprecia- 
tion; in  putting  oneself  sympathetically 
in  another's  position,  and  seeking  to  value 
the  real  worth  of  his  work.  There  are 
more  lives  spoiled  by  undue  harshness,  - 
than  by  undue  gentleness.  K  More  good 
work  is  lost  from  want  orappreciation 
than  from  too  much  of  it ;  and  certainly 
it  is  not  the  function  of  friendship  to  do 
the  critic's  work.y  Unless  carefully  re- 
pressed, such  a  spirit  becomes  censori- 
ous, or,  worse  still,  spiteful,  and  has 
often  been  the  means  of  losing  a  friend. 
11 


■pi 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


It  is  possible  to  be  kind,  without  giving 
crooked  counsel,  or  oily  flattery;  and  it 
is  possible  to  be  true,  without  magnify* 
ing  faults,  and  indulging  in  cruel  rebukes. 


o 


Besides  the  joy  of  friendship,  and  its 
aM  in  matters  of  counsel,  a  third  of  its 
noble  fruits  is  the  direct  help  it  can  give 
us  in  the  difficulties  of  life.  It  gives 
strength  to  the  character. )  It  sobers  and 
steadies  through  the  responsibility  for 
each  other  which  it  means.f  When  men 
face  the  world  together,  ana  are  ready  to 
stand  shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  sense  of 
comradeship  makes  each  strong.  This 
help  may  not  often  be  called  into  play, 
but  just  to  know  that  it  is  there  if  needed 
is  a  great  comfort,  to  know  that  if  one 
fall  the  other  will  lift  him  up.  *  The  very 
word  friendship  suggests  kindly  help  and 
aid  in  distressJ  Shakespeare  applies  the 
word  in  King  tear  to  an  inanimate  thing 
with  this  meaning  of  helpfulness, — 

11  Gracious  my  lord,  hard  by  here  is  a  hovel ; 
Some  friendship  will  it  lend  you  'gainst  the  tempest." 

Sentiment  does  not  amount  to  much,  if 
78 


^vVV' 

■mmmmm^mmm 

r-r-^r^xT.  ^bt^r^i* 

rHE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 

.... 

it  is  not  an  inspiring  force  to  lead  to  gen- 
tle and  to  generous  deeds,  when  there  is 
need.  The  fight  is  not  so  hard,  when  we 
know  that  we  are  not  alone,  but  that 
there  are  some  who  think  of  us,  and 
pray  for  us,  and  would  gladly  help  us  if 
they  got  the  opportunity. 

Comradeship  is  one  of  the  finest  facts, 
and  one  of  the  strongest  forces  in  life.  A 
mere  strong  man,  however  capable,  and 
however  singly  successful,  is  of  little  ac- 
count by  himself.  There  is  no  glamour 
of  romance  in  his  career.  The  kingdom 
of  Romance  belongs  to  David,  not  to- 
Samson — to  David,  with  his  eager,  im- 
petuous, affectionate  nature,  for  whom 
three  men  went  in  the  jeopardy  of  life 
to  bring  him  a  drink  of  water;  and  all 
for  love  of  him.  It  is  not  the  self-cen- 
tred, self-contained  hero,  who  lays  hold 
of  us;  it  is  ever  the  comradeship  of 
heroes.  Dumas'  Three  Musketeers  (and 
the  Gascon  who  made  a  greater  fourth), 
with  their  oath,  "  Each  for  all,  and  all  for 
each,"  inherit  that  kingdom  of  Romance, 
79 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


with  all  that  ever  have  been  tied  in  bands 
of  love. 

Robertson  of  Brighton  in  one  of  his  let- 
ters tells  how  a  friend  of  his  had,  through 
cowardice  or  carelessness,  missed  an  op- 
portunity of  putting  him  right  on  a  point 
with  which  he  was  charged,  and  so  left 
him  defenceless  against  a  slander.  With 
his  native  sweetness  of  soul,  he  contents 
himself  with  the  exclamation,  "  How  rare 
it  is  to  have  a  friend  who  will  defend  you 
thoroughly  and  boldly ! "  Yet  that  is  just 
one  of  the  loyal  things  a  friend  can  do, 
sometimes  when  it  would  be  impossible 
for  a  man  himself  to  do  himself  justice 
with  others.  fSome  things,  needful  to  be 
said  or  done  under  certain  circumstances, 
cannot  be  undertaken  without  indelicacy 
by  the  person  concerned,  and  the  keen 
instinct  of  a  friend  should  tell  him  that 
he  is  needed.  A  little  thoughtfulness 
would  often  suggest  things  that  could  be 
done  for  our  friends,  that  would  make 
them  feel  that  the  tie  which  binds  us  to 
them  is  a  real  onei  {That  man  is  rich  in- 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


deed,  who  possesses  thoughtful,  tactful 
friends,  with  whom  he  feels  safe  when 
present,  and  in  whose  hands  his  honor  is 
secure  when  absent.  If  there  be  no  loy- 
alty,  there  can  be  no  great  friendship. 
Most  of  our  friendships  lack  the  distinc- 
tion of  greatness,  because  we  are  not 
ready  for  little  acts  of  serviced  Without 
these  our  love  dwindles  down  to  a  mere 
sentiment,  and  ceases  to  be  the  inspiring 
force  for  good  to  both  lives,  which  it  was 
at  the  beginning. 

The  aid  we  may  receive  from  friend- 
ship may  be  of  an  even  more  powerful, 
because  of  a  more  subtle,  nature  than 
material  help.     It  may  be  a  safeguard 
against  temptation.     The  recollection  of 
]  a  friend  whom  we  admire  is  a  great  force 
to  save  us  from  evil,  and  to  prompt  us  to 
igood.    The  thought  of  his  sorrow  in  any 
i  moral  break-down  of  ours  will  often  nerve 
I  us  to  stand  firm.     Whai^j^olmyltifind 
think  of  me,  if  I  did  this,  or  consented  to 
this  meanness  ?    Could  I  look  him  in  the 
face  again,  and  meet  the  calm  pure  gaze 
81 


THE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


UJ 


of  his  eye  ?  Would  it  not  be  a  blot  on 
our  friendship,  and  draw  a  veil  over  our 
intercourse  ?  No  friendship  is  worth  the 
name  which  does  not  elevate,  and  does 
not  help  to  nobility  of  conduct  and  to 
strength  of  character.  It  should  give  a 
new  zest  to  duty,  and  a  new  inspiration 
ta  all  that  is  good. 

/  Influence  is  the  greatest  of  all  human 
gifts,  and  we  all  have  it  in  some  measure. 
There  are  some  to  whom  we  are  some- 
thing, if  not  everything.^  There  are  some, 
who  are  grappled  to  us  with  hoops  of 
steel.  There  are  some,  over  whom  we 
have  ascendency,  or  at  least  to  whom  we 
have  access,  who  have  opened  the  gates 
of  the  City  of  Mansoul  to  us,  some  we 
can  sway  with  a  word,  a  touch,  a  look. 
It  must  always  be  a  solemn  thing  for  a 
man  to  ask  what  he  has  done  with  this 
dread  power  of  influence.  For  what  has 
our  friend  to  be  indebted  to  us — for  good 
or  for  evil  ?  Have  we  put  on  his  armor, 
and  sent  him  out  with  courage  and 
to    the   battle?    Or  have  we 


strength 


82 


tf* 

jty 

m 

m 

HA 

m 

M 

m 

HE  FRUITS  OF  FRIENDSH 


dragged  him  down  from  the  heights  to 
which  he  once  aspired  ?  We  are  face  to 
face  here  with  the  tragic  possibilities  of 
human  intercourse. )  In  all  friendship  we 
open  the  gates  of  the  city,  and  those  who 
have  entered  must  be  either  allies  in  the 
fight,  or  treacherous  foes. 
(All  the  fruits  of  friendship,  be  they 
blessed  or  baneful,  spring  from  this  root 
of  influence,  and  influence  in  the  long 
run  is  the  impress  of  our  real  character  on 
other  lives.)  Influence  cannot  rise  above 
the  level  jof  our  lives,  f  The  result  of  our 
friendship  on  others  Will  ultimately  be 
conditioned  by  the  sort  of  persons  we 
are.  It  adds  a  very  sacred  responsibility 
to  life.  Here,  as  in  other  regions,  a  good 
tree  bringeth  forth  good  fruit,  but  a  cor- 
rupt tree  bringeth  forth  evil  fruit 


S3 


THE        CHOICE 
OF    FRIENDSHIP 


**  If  thou  findest  a  good  man,  rise  up  early  tn  the  morn- 
ing to  go  to  him,  and  let  thy  feet  wear  the  steps  of  bit 
door." — The  Apocryphal  Book  of  Ecclesiasticus. 

**  Whereof  the  man,  that  with  me  trod 
This  planet,  was  a  noble  type, 
Appearing  ere  the  times  were  ripe, 
That  friend  of  mine  who  lives  with  God." 

Iennysoh. 


THE         CHOICE 
OF     FRIENDSHIP 


UR  responsibility  for  our  friend- 
ships is  not  confined  to  making 
sure  that  our  influence  over  oth- 
ers is  for  good.  We  have  also 
a  duty  to  ourselves.  As  we  possess  the 
gift  of  influence  over  others,  so  we  in 
turn  are  affected  by  every  life  which 
touches  ours.  Influence  is  like  an  atmos- 
phere exhaled  by  each  separate  person- 
ality. Some  men  seem  neutral  and  color- 
less, with  no  atmosphere  to  speak  of. 
Some  have  a  bad  atmosphere,  like  the 
rank  poisonous  odor  of  noxious  weeds, 
breeding  malaria.  If  our  moral  sense 
were  only  keen  and  true,  we  would  in- 
stinctively know  them,  as  some  children 
87 


es£ 


J 


do,  and  dread  their  company.  Others 
have  a  good  atmosphere;  we  can  breathe 
there  in  safety,  and  have  a  joyful  sense 
of  security.  With  some  of  these  it  is  a 
local  delicate  environment,  sweet,  sug- 
gestive, like  the  aroma  of  wild  violets : 
we  have  to  look,  and  sometimes  to  stoop, 
to  get  into  its  range.  With  some  it  is 
like  a  pine  forest,  or  a  eucalyptus  grove 
of  warmer  climes,  which  perfumes  a 
whole  country  side.  It  is  well  to  know 
such,  Christ's  little  ones  and  Christ's 
great  ones.  They  put  oxygen  into  the 
moral  atmosphere,  and  we  breathe  more 
freely  for  it.  They  give  us  new  insight, 
and  fresh  courage,  and  purer  faith,  and 
by  the  impulse  of  their  example  inspire 
us  to  nobler  life. 

There  is  nothing  so  important  as  the 
choice  of  friendship ;  for  it  both  reflects 
character  and  affects  it.  A  man  is  known 
by  the  company  he  keeps.  This  is  an  in- 
fallible test ;  for  his  thoughts,  and  desires, 
and  ambitions,  and  loves  are  revealed 
here.  He  gravitates  naturally  to  his  con- 
88 


WUWft/>Qtouu*oiiL»HLWU<uuHiitu  nua  aumu  jm  Mraaa^^^M 


I '  ^v^. 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


genial  sphere.  And  it  affects  character; 
for  it  is  the  atmosphere  he  breathes.  It 
enters  his  blood  and  makes  the  circuit  of 
his  veins.  "  All  love  assimilates  to  what 
it  loves."  A  man  is  moulded  into  like- 
ness of  the  lives  that  come  nearest  him. 
It  is  at  the  point  of  the  emotions  that  he 
Is  most  impressionable.  The  material 
surroundings,  the  outside  lot  of  a  man, 
affects  him,  but  after  all  that  is  mostly  on 
the  outside;  for  the  higher  functions  of 
life  may  be  served  in  almost  any  external 
circumstances.  But  the  environment  of 
other  lives,  the  communion  of  other 
souls,  are  far  more  potent  facts.  The 
nearer  people  are  to  each  other,  and  the 
less  disguise  there  is  in  their  relationship, 
the  more  invariably  will  the  law  of  spir- 
itual environment  act. 

It  seems  a  tragedy  that  people,  who  see 
each  other  as  they  are,  become  like  each 
other;  and  often  it  is  a  tragedy.  But  the 
law  carries  as  much  hope  in  it  as  despair. 
If  through  it  evil  works  havoc,  through 
it  also  good  persists.  If  we  are  hindered 
89 


y 


m 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


by  the  weakness  of  our  associates,  we 
are  often  helped  by  their  goodness  and 
sweetness.  Contact  with  a  strong  na- 
ture inspires  us  with  strength.  Some 
one  once  asked  Kingsley  what  was  the 
secret  of  his  strong  joyous  life,  and  he 
answered,  "I  had  a  friend."  If  every 
evil  man  is  a  centre  of  contagion,  every 
good  man  is  a  centre  of  healing.  He 
provides  an  environment  in  which  others 
can  see  God.  Goodness  creates  an  at- 
mosphere for  other  souls  to  be  good.  It 
is  a  priestly  garment  that  has  virtue  even 
for  the  finger  that  touches  it.  The  earth 
has  its  salt,  and  the  world  has  its  light, 
in  the  sweet  souls,  and  winsome  lives, 
and  Christlike  characters  to  be  found  in 
it.  The  choice  of  friends  is  therefore 
one  of  the  most  serious  affairs  in  life., 
just  because  a  man  becomes  moulden 
into  the  likeness  of  what  he  loves  in  his 
friend. 

From  the  purely  selfish  standard,  every 
fresh  tie  we  form  means  giving  a  new 
hostage  to  fortune,  and  adding  a  new 
90 


S 


[ 
UNIVER 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


risk  to  our  happiness.  Apart  from  any 
moral  evil,  every  intimacy  is  a  danger  of 
another  blow  to  the  heart.  But  if  we 
desire  fullness  of  life,  we  cannot  help 
ourselves.  A  man  may  make  many  a 
friendship  to  his  own  hurt,  but  the  iso- 
lated life  is  a  greater  danger  still.  So- 
cietas  est  mater  disc  or  di arum,  which 
Scott  in  his  humorous  pathetic  account 
of  the  law-suits  of  Peter  Peebles  versus 
Plainstanes  in  "Redgauntlet,"  translates, 
Partnership  oft  makes  pleaship.  Every 
relationship  means  risk,  but  we  must 
take  the  risk;  for  while  nearly  all  our 
sorrows  come  from  our  connection  with 
others,  nearly  all  our  joys  have  the  same 
source.  We  cannot  help  ourselves;  for 
it  is  part  of  the  great  discipline  of  life. 
Rather,  we  need  knowledge,  and  care, 
and  forethought  to  enable  us  to  make 
the  best  use  of  the  necessities  of  our 
nature.  And  foremost  of  these  for  im- 
portance is  our  choice  of  friends. 

We  may  err  on  the  one  side  by  being 
too  cautious,  and  too  exclusive  in  our  at- 
9» 


^^^^n^^^n 


mmmmmmmmmmmm 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


=v 


tachments.  We  may  be  supercilious,  and 
disdainful  in  our  estimate  of  men.  Con- 
tempt always  blinds  the  eyes.  Every 
man  is  vulnerable  somewhere,  if  only 
like  Achilles  in  the  heel.  The  true  secret 
of  insight  is  not  contempt,  but  sympathy. 
Such  disdain  usually  means  putting  all  the 
eggs  into  one  basket,  when  a  smash  spells 
ruin. 

The  other  extreme  is  the  attitude,  which 
easily  makes  many  friends,  without  much 
consideration  of  quality.  We  know  the 
type  of  man,  who  is  friendly  with  every- 
body, and  a  friend  of  none.  He  is  Hail 
fellow  well  met!  with  every  passing 
stranger,  a  boon  companion  of  every 
wayfarer.  He  takes  up  with  every  sort 
of  casual  comrade,  and  seeks  to  be  on 
good  terms  with  everybody.  He  makes 
what  is  called,  with  a  little  contempt, 
good  company,  and  is  a  favorite  on  all 
light  occasions.  His  affections  spread 
themselves  out  over  a  large  expanse.  He 
s  easily  consoled  for  a  loss,  and  easily 
attracted  by  a  new  attachment  And  as 
92 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


he  deals,  so  is  he  dealt  with.  Many  like 
him;  few  quite  trust  him.  He  makes 
many  friends,  and  is  not  particular  about 
their  quality.  The  law  of  spiritual  en- 
vironment plays  upon  him  with  its  re- 
lentless force.  He  gives  himself  away 
too  cheaply,  and  opens  himself  to  all 
sorts  of  influence.  He  is  constantly  lay- 
ing himself  in  the  way  of  temptation. 
His  mind  takes  on  the  opinions  of  his 
set:  his  character  assimilates  itself  to  the 
forces  that  act  on  it.  The  evil  example 
of  some  of  his  intimates  gradually  breaks 
down  the  barriers  of  past  training  and 
teaching.  The  desire  to  please  a  crowd 
means  that  principle  is  let  slip,  and  con- 
science ceases  to  be  the  standard  of 
action.  His  very  friends  are  not  true 
friends,  being  mostly  of  the  fair-weather 
quality. 

Though  it  may  seem  difficult  to  avoid 
either  of  these  two  extremes,  it  will  not 
do  to  refuse  to  choose  at  all,  and  leave 
things  to  chance.  We  drift  into  many 
of  our  connections  with  men,  but  the  art 
93 


E 

o 


*^T 


of  seamanship  is  tested  by  sailing  not  by 
drifting.  The  subject  of  the  choice  of 
friendship  is  not  advanced  much  by  just 
letting  them  choose  us.  That  is  to  be- 
come the  victim,  not  the  master  of  our 
circumstances.  And  while  it  is  true  that 
we  are  acted  on  as  much  as  we  act,  and 
are  chosen  as  much  as  we  choose,  it  is 
not  permitted  to  any  one  merely  to  be 
passive,  except  at  great  cost. 

At  the  same  time  in  the  mystery  of 
friendship  we  cannot  say  that  we  went 
about  with  a  touchstone  testing  all  we 
met,  till  we  found  the  ore  that  would  re- 
spond to  our  particular  magnet.  It  is 
not  that  we  said  to  ourselves,  Go  to,  we 
will  choose  a  friend,  and  straightway 
made  a  distinct  election  to  the  vacant 
throne  of  our  heart.  From  one  point  of 
view  we  were  absolutely  passive.  Things 
arranged  themselves  without  effort,  and 
by  some  subtle  affinity  we  learned  that 
we  had  gained  a  friend.  The  history  of 
every  true  friendship  is  the  brief  descrip- 
tion of  Emerson,  "  My  friends  have  come 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


to  me  unsought;  the  great  God  gave 
them  to  me."  There  was  an  element 
of  necessity  in  this,  as  in  all  crises  of 
life. 

Does  it  therefore  seem  absurd  and  use- 
less to  speak  about  the  choice  of  friend- 
ship at  all  ?  By  no  means,  because  the 
principles  we  set  before  ourselves  will 
determine  the  kind  of  friends  we  have, 
as  truly  as  if  the  whole  initiative  lay  with 
us.  We  are  chosen  for  the  same  reason 
for  which  we  would  choose.  To  try  to 
separate  the  two  processes  is  to  make 
the  same  futile  distinction,  on  a  lower 
scale,  so  often  made  between  choosing 
God  and  being  chosen  by  Him.  It  is  fu- 
tile, because  the  distinction  cannot  be 
maintained. 

Besides,  the  value  of  having  some  defi- 
nite principle  by  which  to  test  friendship 
is  not  confined  to  the  positive  attach- 
ments made.  The  necessity  for  a  system 
of  selection  is  largely  due  to  the  necessity 
for  rejection.  The  good  and  great  in- 
timacies of  our  life  will  perhaps  come  to 
95 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


us,  as  the  wind  bloweth,  we  cannot  tell 
how.  But  by  regulating  our  course 
wisely,  we  will  escape  from  hampering 
our  life  by  mistakes,  and  weakening  it 
with  false  connections.  We  ought  to  be 
courteous,  and  kind,  and  gentle  with  all, 
but  not  to  all  can  we  open  the  sanctuary 
of  our  heart. 

We  have  a  graduated  scale  of  intimacy, 
from  introduction,  and  nodding  ac- 
quaintance, and  speaking  acquaintance, 
through  an  endless  series  of  kinds 
of  intercourse  to  the  perfect  friendship. 
In  counting  up  our  gains  and  our  re- 
sources, we  cannot  give  them  all  the  same 
value,  without  deceiving  ourselves.  To 
expect  loyalty  and  devotion  from  all  alike 
is  to  court  disappointment.  Most  mis- 
anthropical and  cynical  estimates  of  man 
are  due  to  this  mingled  ignorance  and 
conceit.  We  cannot  look  for  undying 
affection  from  the  crowd  we  may  happen 
to  have  entertained  to  dinner,  or  have 
rubbed  shoulders  with  at  business  resorts 
or  at  social  gatherings.  Many  men  in 
96 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


life,  as  many  are  depicted  in  literature, 
have  played  the  misanthrope,  because 
they  have  discovered  through  adversity 
how  many  of  their  associates  were  fair- 
weather  friends.  In  their  prosperity  they 
encouraged  toadying  and  sycophancy. 
They  liked  to  have  hangers-on,  who 
would  flatter,  and  when  the  east  wind 
blows  they  are  indignant  that  their  circle 
should  prefer  to  avoid  it. 

Shakespeare's  Timon  of  Athens  is  a 
typical  misanthrope  in  his  virtuous  indig- 
nation at  the  cat-like  love  of  men  for 
comfort.  In  his  prosperity  crowds  of 
glass-faced  flatterers  bent  before  him, 
and  were  made  rich  in  Timon's  nod.  He 
wasted  his  substance  in  presents  and 
hospitality,  and  bred  a  fine  race  of  para- 
sites and  trencher-friends.  When  he 
spent  all  and  began  to  be  in  want,  no 
man  gave  unto  him.  The  winter  shower 
drove  away  the  summer  flies.  He  had 
loved  the  reputation  for  splendid  liber- 
ality, and  lavish  generosity,  and  had 
sought  to  be  a  little  god  among  men,  be- 
97 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


11 


stowing  favors  and  receiving  homage, 
all  of  which  was  only  a  more  subtle  form 
of  selfishness.  When  the  brief  day  of 
prosperity  passed,  men  shut  their  doors 
against  the  setting  sun.  The  smooth 
and  smiling  crowd  dropped  off  with  a 
shrug,  and  Timon  went  to  the  other  ex- 
treme of  misanthropy,  declaimed  against 
friendship,  and  cursed  men  Jot  their  in- 
gratitude. But  after  all  he  got  what  he 
had  paid  for.  He  thought  he  had  been 
buying  the  hearts  of  men,  and  found  that 
he  had  only  bought  their  mouths,  and 
tongues,  and  eyes. 

"  He  that  loves  to  be  flattered  is  worthy 
of  the  flatterer."  For  moral  value  there 
is  not  much  to  choose  between  them. 
Rats  are  said  to  desert  the  sinking  ship, 
which  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  in  rats. 
The  choice  of  friendship  does  not  mean 
the  indiscriminate  acceptance  of  all  who 
are  willing  to  assume  the  name  of  friend. 
A  touch  of  east  wind  is  good,  not  only 
to  weed  out  the  false  and  test  the  true, 
but  also  to  brace  a  man  to  the  stern  reali- 
Q8 


^MOMitW^^^iA^y?^^ 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


/ 


ties  of  life.  When  we  find  that  some  of 
our  intimates  are  dispersed  by  adversity, 
instead  of  raving  against  the  world's  in-  / 
gratitude  like  Timon,  we  should  be  glad 
that  now  we  know  whom  exactly  we 
can  trust. 

Another  common  way  of  choosing 
friends,  and  one  which  also  meets  with 
its  own  fitting  reward,  is  the  selfish 
method  of  valuing  men  according  to  their 
usefulness  to  us.  To  add  to  their  credit, 
or  reputation,  some  are  willing  to  include 
anybody  in  their  list  of  intimates.  For 
business  purposes  even,  men  will  some- 
times run  risks,  by  endangering  the  peace 
of  their  home  and  the  highest  interests  of 
those  they  love ;  they  are  ready  to  intro- 
duce into  their  family  circle  men  whom 
they  distrust  morally,  because  they  think 
they  can  make  some  gain  out  of  the  con- 
nection. 

All  the  stupid  snobbishness,  and  mean 

tuft-hunting  so  common,  are  due  to  the 

same  desire  to  make  use  of    people  in 

some  way  or  other.     It  is  an  abuse  of 

99 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


k^*^*-i 


the  word  friendship  to  apply  it  to  such 
social  scrambling.  Of  course,  even  tuft- 
hunting  may  be  only  a  perverted  desire 
after  what  we  think  the  best,  a  longing 
to  get  near  those  we  consider  of  nobler 
nature  and  larger  mind  than  common  as- 
sociates. It  may  be  an  instinctive  agree- 
ment with  Plato's  definition  of  the  wise 
man,  as  ever  wanting  to  be  with  him 
who  is  better  than  himself.  But  in  its 
usual  form  it  becomes  an  unspeakable 
degradation,  inducing  servility,  and  lick- 
spittle humility,  and  all  the  vices  of  the 
servile  mind.  There  can  never  be  true 
friendship  without  self-respect,  and  un- 
less soul  meets  soul  free  from  self-seek- 
ing. If  we  had  higher  standards  for  our- 
selves, if  we  lived  to  God  and  not  to 
men,  we  would  also  find  that  in  the 
truest  sense  we  would  live  with  men. 
We  need  not  go  out  of  our  way  to  ingra- 
tiate ourselves  with  anybody.  Nothing 
can  make  up  for  the  loss  of  independence 
and  native  dignity  of  soul.  It  is  not  for 
a  man,  made  in  the  image  of  God,  to 
100 


EmZOTI;.'  3/ J^ 


PHOTON  U, 


IMW1M1 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


grovel,  and  demean  himself  before  his 
fellow  creatures. 

After  all  it  defeats  itself;  for  there  can—/ 
'only  be  friendship  between  equals.  This 
does  not  mean  equals  in  what  is  called 
social  position,  nor  even  in  intellectual 
attainments,  though  these  naturally  have 
weight,  but  it  means  equality  which  has— 
a  spiritual  source.  Can  two  walk  to- 
gether, except  they  be  agreed?  Nor 
does  it  mean  identity,  nor  even  likeness. 
Indeed,  for  the  highest  unity  there  must 
be  difference,  the  difference  of  free  be- 
ings, with  will,  and  conscience,  and  mind 
unhampered.  We  often  make  much  of 
our  differences,  forgetting  that  really  we 
differ,  and  can  differ,  only  because  we 
agree.  Without  many  points  of  contact, 
there  could  be  no  divergence  from  these. 
Argument  and  contradiction  of  opinion 
are  the  outcome  of  difference,  and  yet 
for  argument  there  is  needed  a  common 
basis.  We  cannot  even  discuss,  unless 
we  meet  on  some  mental  ground  com- 
mon to  both  disputants.    So  there  may 

101 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


/ 


be,  nay,  for  the  highest  union  there  must 
be,  a  great  general  conformity  behind  the 
distinctions,  a  deep  underlying  common 
basis  beneath  the  unlikeness.  And  for 
true  union  of  hearts,  this  equality  must 
have  a  spiritual  source.  If  then  there 
must  be  some  spiritual  affinity,  agree- 
ment in  what  is  best  and  highest  in  each, 
we  can  see  the  futility  of  most  of  the 
selfish  attempts  to  make  capital  out  of 
our  intercourse.  Our  friends  will  be,  be- 
cause they  must  be,  our  equals.  We  can 
/*  never  have  a  nobler  intimacy,  until  we^ 
are  made  fit  for  it. 

All  connections  based  on  selfishness, 
either  on  personal  pleasure  or  on  useful- 
ness, are  accidental.  They  are  easily 
dissolved,  because,  when  the  pleasure 
or  the  utility  ceases,  the  bond  ceases. 
When  the  motive  of  the  friendship  is  re- 
moved, the  friendship  itself  disappears. 
The  perfect  friendship  is  grounded  on 
what  is  permanent,  on  goodness,  on 
character.  It  is  of  much  slower  growth, 
since  it  takes  some  time  to  really  find  out 
102 


<<M'- 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


the  truly  lovable  things  in  a  life,  but  it 
is  lasting,  since  the  foundation  is  stable. 

The  most  important  point,  then,  about 
the  choice  of  friendship  is  that  we  should 
know  what  to  reject.  Countless  attrac- 
tions come  to  us  on  the  lower  plane.  A 
man  may  be  attracted  by  what  his  own 
conscience  tells  him  to  be  unworthy. 
He  may  have  slipped  gradually  into  com- 
panionship with  some,  whose  influence 
is  even  evil.  He  may  have  got,  almost 
without  his  own  will,  into  a  set  which  is 
deteriorating  his  life  and  character.  He 
knows  the  fruits  of  his  weakness,  in  the 
lowering  of  the  moral  tone,  in  the  slack- 
ening grip  of  the  conscience,  in  the  looser 
flow  of  the  blood.  He  has  become  pli- 
ant in  will,  feeble  in  purpose,  and  flaccid 
in  character.  Every  man  has  a  duty  to 
himself  to  be  his  own  best  self,  and  he 
can  never  be  that  under  the  spell  of  evil 
companionship. 

Some  men  mix  in  doubtful  company, 
and  say  that  they  have  no  Pharisaic  ex- 
clusiveness,  and  even  sometimes  defend 
103 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


kf 


themselves  by  Christ's  example,  who  re 
ceived  sinners  and  ate  with  them.  The 
comparison  borders  on  blasphemy.  It 
depends  on  the  purpose,  for  which  sin- 
ners are  received.  Christ  never  joined  in 
their  sin,  but  went  to  save  them  from 
their  sin;  and  wickedness  could  not  lift 
its  head  in  His  presence.  Some  seek  to 
be  initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  iniquity, 
in  idle  or  morbid  curiosity,  perhaps  to 
write  a  realistic  book,  or  to  see  life,  as  it 
is  called.  There  is  often  a  prurient  de- 
sire to  explore  the  tracts  of  sin,  as  if  in- 
formation on  such  subjects  meant  wis- 
dom. If  men  are  honest  with  them- 
selves, they  will  admit  that  they  join  the 
company  of  sinners,  for  the  relish  they 
have  for  the  sin.  We  must  first  obey  the 
moral  command  to  come  out  from  among 
them  and  be  separate,  before  it  is  possi- 
ble for  us  to  meet  them  like  Christ. 
Separateness  of  soul  is  the  law  of  holi- 
ness. Of  Christ,  of  whom  it  was  said 
that  this  man  receiveth  sinners,  it  was  also 
said  that  He  was  separate  from  sinners. 
104 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


The  knowledge  of  wickedness  is  not 
wisdom,  neither  is  the  counsel  of  sinners 
prudence.  Most  young  men  know  the 
temptation  here  referred  to,  the  curiosity 
to  learn  the  hidden  things,  and  to  have 
the  air  of  those  who  know  the  world. 

If  we  have  gone  wrong  here,  and  have 
admitted  into  the  sanctuary  of  our  lives 
influences  that  make  for  evil,  we  must 
break  away  from  them  at  all  costs.  The 
sweeter  and  truer  relationships  of  our  life 
should  arm  us  for  the  struggle,  the 
prayers  of  a  mother,  the  sorrow  of  true 
friends.  This  is  the  fear,  countless  times, 
in  the  hearts  of  the  folks  at  home  when 
their  boy  leaves  them  to  win  his  way  in 
the  city,  the  deadly  fear  lest  he  should 
fall  into  evil  habits,  and  into  the  clutches 
of  evil  men.  They  know  that  there  are  - 
men  whose  touch,  whose  words,  whose 
very  look,  is  contamination.  To  give 
them  entrance  into  our  lives  is  to  submit 
ourselves  to  the  contagion  of  sin. 

Friends  should  be  chosen  by  a  higher  y 

principle  of  selection  than  any  worldly 
105 


^wsrt 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


one,  of  pleasure,  or  usefulness,  or  by 
weak  submission  to  the  evil  influences  of 
our  lot.  They  should  be  chosen  for  char- 
ts acter,  for  goodness,  for  truth  and  trust 
worthiness,  because  they  have  sympathy 
with  us  in  our  best  thoughts  and  holiest 
aspirations,  because  they  have  commu- 
nity of  mind  in  the  things  of  the  soul. 
All  other  connections  are  fleeting  and  im- 
perfect from  the  nature  of  the  case.  A 
relationship  based  on  the  physical  with- 
ers when  the  first  bloom  fades :  a  rela- 
tionship founded  on  the  intellectual  is 
only  a  little  more  secure,  as  it  too  is  sub- 
ject to  caprice.  All  purely  earthly  part- 
nerships, like  all  earthly  treasures,  are  ex- 
posed to  decay,  the  bite  of  the  moth  and 
the  stain  of  the  rust;  and  they  must  all 
have  an  end. 

A  young  man  may  get  opposing  advice 
from  two  equally  trusted  counsellors. 
One  will  advise  him  to  cultivate  the 
friendship  of  the  clever,  because  they 
will  afterward  occupy  places  of  power  in 
the  world:  the  other  will  advise  him  to 
106 


. 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


cultivate  the  friendship  of  the  good,  be- 
cause if  they  do  not  inherit  the  earth,  they 
aspire  to  the  heavens.  If  he  knows  the 
character  of  the  two  counsellors,  he  will 
understand  why  they  should  look  upon 
life  from  such  different  standpoints;  and 
later  on  he  will  find  that  while  some  of 
his  friends  were  both  clever  and  good, 
not  one  of  the  purely  intellectual  friend- 
ships remains  to  him.  It  does  not  afford 
a  sufficient  basis  of  agreement,  to  stand 
the  tear  and  wear  of  life.  The  basis  of- 
friendship  must  be  community  of  soul. 

The  only  permanent  severance  of  heart 
comes  through  lack  of  a  common  spiritual 
footing.  If  one  soul  goes  up  the  moun- 
tain top,  and  the  other  stays  down  among 
the  shadows,  if  the  two  have  not  the 
same  high  thoughts,  and  pure  desires,  and 
ideals  of  service,  they  cannot  remain  to- 
gether except  in  form.  Friends  need  not 
be  identical  in  temperament  and  capacity, 
but  they  must  be  alike  in  sympathy.  An 
unequal  yoke  becomes  either  an  intoler- 
able burden,  or  will  drag  one  of  the  part- 
ly 


THE  CHOICE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ners  away  from  the  path  his  soul  at  its 
best  would  have  loved  to  tread. 

"If  you  loved  only  what  were  worth  your  love, 
Love  were  clear  gain,  and  wholly  well  for  you." 

If  we  choose  our  friends  in  Christ,  neither 
here,  nor  ever,  need  we  fear  parting,  and 
will  have  the  secure  joy  and  peace  which 
come  from  having  a  friend  who  is  as 
one's  own  soul. 


i\ 


lFor  Lycidas  is  dead,  dead  ere  his  prime, 
Young  Lycidas,  and  hath  not  left  his  peer. 


Weep  no  more,  woeful  shepherds,  weep  no  more 
For  Lycidas,  your  sorrow,  is  not  dead, 
Sunk  though  he  be  beneath  the  watery  floor. 
So  sinks  the  day-star  in  the  ocean  bed, 
And  yet  anon  repairs  his  drooping  head, 
And  tricks  his  beams,  and  with  new-spangled  ore 
Flames  in  the  forehead  of  the  morning  sky  : 
So  Lycidas  sunk  low,  but  mounted  high, 
Through  the  dear  might  of  Him   that  walked  the 
waves." 

Milton. 


b=£ 


THE      ECLIPSE 
OF  FRIENDSHIP 


S  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  joys  of 
life  when  a  kindred  soul  is  for 
the  first  time  recognized  and 
claimed,  so  it  is  one  of  the  bit- 
terest moments  of  life  when  the  first  rup- 
ture is  made  of  the  ties  which  bind  us  to 
other  lives.  Before  it  comes,  it  is  hard  to 
believe  that  it  is  possible,  if  we  ever  think 
of  it  at  all.  When  it  does  come,  it  is  harder 
still  to  understand  the  meaning  of  the 
blow.  The  miracle  of  friendship  seemed 
too  fair,  to  carry  in  its  bosom  the  menace 
of  its  loss.  We  knew,  of  course,  that  such 
things  had  been,  and  must  be,  but  we 
never  quite  realized  what  it  would  be  to  be 
the  victims  of  the  common  doom  of  man. 
in 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


If  it  only  came  as  a  sudden  pain,  that 
passes  after  its  brief  spasm  of  agony,  it 
would  not  be  so  sore  an  affliction ;  but 
when  it  comes,  it  comes  to  stay.  There 
remains  a  place  in  our  hearts  which  is 
tender  to  every  touch,  and  it  is  touched 
so  often.  We  survive  the  shock  of  the 
moment  easier  than  the  constant  reminder 
of  our  loss.  The  old  familiar  face,  de- 
barred to  the  sense  of  sight,  can  be  re- 
called by  a  stray  word,  a  casual  sight,  a 
chance  memory.  The  closer  the  inter- 
course had  been,  the  more  things  there 
are  in  our  lives  associated  with  him — 
things  that  we  did  together,  places  that 
we  visited  together,  thoughts  even  that 
we  thought  together. 

There  seems  no  region  of  life  where  we 
can  escape  from  the  suggestions  of  mem- 
ory. The  sight  of  any  little  object  can 
bring  him  back,  with  his  way  of  speak- 
ing, with  his  tricks  of  gesture,  with  all 
the  qualities  for  which  we  loved  him,  and 
for  which  we  mourn  him  now.  If  the 
intimacy  was  due  to  mere  physical  prox- 
112 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


imity,  the  loss  will  be  only  a  vague  sense 
of  uneasiness  through  the  breakdown  of 
long-continued  habit;  but,  if  the  two 
lives  were  woven  into  the  same  web, 
there  must  be  ragged  edges  left,  and  it  is 
a  weary  task  to  take  up  the  threads  again, 
and  find  a  new  woof  for  the  warp.  The 
closer  the  connection  has  been,  the  keener 
is  the  loss.  It  comes  back  to  us  at  the 
sight  of  the  many  things  associated  with 
him,  and,  fill  up  our  lives  with  countless 
distractions  as  we  may,  the  shadow  creeps 
back  to  darken  the  world. 

Sometimes  there  is  the  added  pain 
of  remorse  that  we  did  not  enough  ap- 
preciate the  treasure  we  possessed.  In 
thoughtlessness  we  accepted  the  gift; 
we  had  so  little  idea  of  the  true  value  of 
his  friendship;  we  loved  so  little,  and 
were  so  impatient : — if  only  we  had  him 
back  again;  if  only  we  had  one  more 
opportunity  to  show  him  how  dear  he 
was;  if  only  we  had  another  chance  of 
proving  ourselves  worthy.  We  can 
hardly  forgive  ourselves  that  we  were 
H3 


so  cold  and  selfish.  Self-reproach,  the 
regret  of  the  unaccepted  opportunity,  is 
one  of  the  commonest  feelings  after  be- 
reavement, and  it  is  one  of  the  most 
blessed. 

Still,  it  may  become  a  morbid  feeling. 
It  is  a  false  sentimentalism  which  lives  in 
the  past,  and  lavishes  its  tenderness  on 
memory.  It  is  difficult  to  say  what  is 
the  dividing  line  between  healthy  sorrow 
and  morbid  sentiment.  It  seems  a  nat- 
ural instinct,  which  makes  the  bereaved 
care  lovingly  for  the  very  grave,  and 
which  makes  the  mother  keep  locked  up 
the  little  shoes  worn  by  the  little  feet, 
relics  hid  from  the  vulgar  eye.  The  in- 
stinct has  become  a  little  more  morbid, 
when  it  has  preserved  the  room  of  a  dead 
mother,  with  its  petty  decorations  and 
ornaments  as  she  left  them.  Beautiful 
as  the  instinct  may  be,  there  is  nothing 
so  dangerous  as  when  our  most  natural 
feeling  turns  morbid. 

It  is  always  a  temptation,  which  grows 
stronger  the  longer  we  live,  to  look  back 
114 


E.£23X2S 


' 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


k 


instead  of  forward,  to  bemoan  the  past, 
and  thus  deride  the  present  and  distrust 
the  future.  We  must  not  forget  our 
present  blessings,  the  love  we  still  pos- 
sess, the  gracious  influences  that  remain, 
and  most  of  all  the  duties  that  claim  our 
strength.  The  loving  women  who  went 
early  in  the  morning  to  the  sepulchre  of 
the  buried  Christ  were  met  with  a  re- 
buke, "Why  seek  ye  the  living  among 
the  dead  ?  "  They  were  sent  back  to  life 
to  find  Him,  and  sent  back  to  life  to  do 
honor  to  His  death.  Not  by  ointments 
and  spices,  however  precious,  nor  at  the 
rock-hewn  tomb,  could  they  best  remem- 
ber their  Lord;  but  out  in  the  world, 
which  that  morning  had  seemed  so  cold 
and  cheerless,  and  in  their  lives,  which 
then  had  seemed  not  worth  living. 

Christianity  does  not  condemn  any  nat- 
ural human  feeling,  but  it  will  not  let  these 
interfere  with  present  duty  and  destroy 
future  usefulness.  It  does  not  send  men 
to  search  for  the  purpose  of  living  in  the 
graves  of  their  dead  hopes  and  pleasures. 
H5 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


its  disciples  must  not  attempt  to  live  on 
the  relics  of  even  great  incidents,  among 
crucifixes  and  tombs.  In  the  Desert,  the 
heart  must  reach  forward  to  the  Prom- 
ised Land,  and  not  back  to  Egypt.  The 
Christian  faith  is  for  the  future,  because 
it  believes  in  the  God  of  the  future.  The 
world  is  not  a  lumber  room,  full  of  relics 
and  remembrances,  over  which  to  brood. 
We  are  asked  to.  remember  the  beautiful 
past  which  was  ours,  and  the  beautiful 
lives  which  we  have  lost,  by  making  the 
present  beautiful  like  it,  and  our  lives 
beautiful  like  theirs.  It  is  human  to  think 
that  life  has  no  future,  if  now  it  seems 
• '  dark  with  griefs  and  graves, "  It  comes 
like  a  shock  to  find  that  we  must  bury 
our  sorrow,  and  come  into  contact  with 
the  hard  world  again,  and  live  our  com- 
mon life  once  more.  The  Christian  learns 
to  do  it,  not  because  he  has  a  short  mem- 
ory, but  because  he  has  a  long  faith. 
The  voice  of  inspiration  is  heard  oftener 
through  the  realities  of  life,  than  through 
vain  regrets  and  recluse  dreams.    The 


Christian  life  must  be  in  its  degree  some- 
thing like  the  Master's  own  life,  lumi- 
nous with  His  hope,  and  surrounded  by 
a  bracing  atmosphere  which  uplifts  all 
who  even  touch  its  outer  fringe. 

The  great  fact  of  life,  nevertheless,  is 
death,  and  it  must  have  a  purpose  to 
serve  and  a  lesson  to  teach.  It  seems  to 
lose  something  of  its  impressiveness,  be- 
cause it  is  universal.  The  very  inevi- 
tableness  of  it  seems  to  kill  thought, 
rather  than  induce  it.  It  is  only  when 
the  blow  strikes  home,  that  we  are  pulled 
up  and  forced  to  face  the  fact.  Theo- 
retically there  is  a  wonderful  unanimity 
among  men,  regarding  the  shortness  of 
life  and  the  uncertainty  of  all  human  re- 
lationships. The  last  word  of  the  wise 
on  life  has  ever  been  its  fleetingness,  its 
appalling  changes,  its  unexpected  sur- 
prises. The  only  certainty  of  life  is  its 
uncertainty — its  unstable  tenure,  its  in- 
evitable end.  But  practically  we  go  on 
as  if  we  could  lay  our  plans,  and  mort- 
117 


imgfrt  HttmWl  WUiU^i^Y'^yjojSLMUHOi  mmuimir 


» 


m 


'mmmmmmmmmamssit 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


gage  time,  without  doubt  or  danger;  un- 
til our  feet  are  knocked  from  under  us 
by  some  sudden  shock,  and  we  realize 
how  unstable  the  equilibrium  of  life  really 
is.    The  lesson  of  life  is  death. 

The  experience  would  not  be  so  trag- 
ically universal,  if  it  had  not  a  good  and 
necessary  meaning.  For  one  thing  it 
should  sober  us,  and  make  our  lives  full 
of  serious,  solemn  purpose.  It  should 
teach  us  to  number  our  days  that  we 
may  apply  our  hearts  to  wisdom.  The 
man,  who  has  no  place  for  death  in  his 
philosophy,  has  not  learned  to  live.  The 
lesson  of  death  is  life. 

On  the  whole,  however,  it  is  not  our 
own  liability  to  death  which  oppresses 
us.  The  fear  of  it  to  a  brave  man,  not 
to  speak  of  a  man  of  faith,  can  be  over- 
come. It  is  the  fear  of  it  for  others 
whom  we  love,  which  is  its  sting.  And 
none  of  us  can  live  very  long  without 
knowing  in  our  own  heart's  experience 
the  reality,  as  well  as  the  terror,  of  death. 
This  too  has  its  meaning  for  us,  to  look 
118 


at  life  more  tenderly,  and  touch  it  more 
gently.  The  pathos  of  life  is  only  a 
forced  sentiment  to  us,  if  we  have  not 
felt  the  pity  of  life.  To  a  sensitive  soul, 
smarting  with  his  own  loss,  the  world 
sometimes  seems  full  of  graves,  and  for 
a  time  at  least  makes  him  walk  softly 


T 


This  is  one  reason  why  the  making  of 
new  friends  is  so  much  easier  in  youth 
than  later  on.  Friendship  comes  to  youth 
seemingly  without  any  conditions,  and 
without  any  fears.  There  is  no  past  to 
look  back  at,  with  much  regret  and  some 
sorrow.  We  never  look  behind  us,  //'// 
we  miss  something.  Youth  is  satisfied 
with  the  joy  of  present  possession.  To 
the  youngj  friendship  comes  as  the  glory 
of  spring,  a  very  miracle  of  beauty,  a 
mystery  of  birth:  to  the  old  it  has  the 
bloom  of  autumn,  beautiful  still,  but  with 
the  beauty  of  decay.  To  the  young  it  is 
chiefly  hope:  to  the  old  it  is  mostly  mem- 
ory. The  man  who  is  conscious  that  he 
has  lost  the  best  of  his  days,  the  best  ot 
119 


1 


**&* 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


i\ 


his  powers,  the  best  of  his  friends,  nat- 
urally lives  a  good  deal  in  the  past. 

Such  a  man  is  prepared  for  furthe 
losses;  he  has  adjusted  himself  to  the 
fact  of  death.  At  first,  we  cannot  be- 
lieve that  it  can  happen  to  us  and  to  oui 
love;  or,  if  the  thought  comes  to  us,  it  is 
an  event  too  far  in  the  future  to  ruffle  the 
calm  surface  of  our  heart.  And  yet,  it 
must  come;  from  it  none  can  escape. 
Most  can  remember  a  night  of  waiting, 
too  stricken  for  prayer,  too  numb  of  heart 
even  for  feeling,  vaguely  expecting  the 
blow  to  strike  us  out  of  the  dark.  A 
strange  sense  of  the  unreality  of  things 
came  over  us,  when  the  black  wave  sub- 
merged us  and  passed  on.  We  went 
out  into  the  sunshine,  and  it  seemed  to 
mock  us.  We  entered  again  among  the 
busy  ways  of  men,  and  the  roar  fjt  life 
beat  upon  our  brain  and  heart, 


'Yet  in  these  ears,  till  hearing  dies, 
One  set  slow  bell  will  seem  to  toll, 
The  passing  of  the  sweetest  soul 
That  ever  looked  with  human  eyes.' 
120 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


9 


Was  it  worth  while  to  have  linked  our 
lives  on  to  other  lives,  and  laid  ourselves 
open  to  such  desolation  ?  Would  it  not 
be  better  to  go  through  the  world,  with- 
out joining  ourselves  too  closely  to  the 
fleeting  bonds  of  other  loves  ?  Why  de- 
liberately add  to  our  disabilities  ?  But  it 
is  not  a  disability ;  rather,  the  great  pur- 
pose of  all  our  living  is  to  learn  love,  even 
though  we  must  experience  the  pains  of 
love  as  well  as  the  joys.  To  cut  our- 
selves off  from  this  lot  of  the  human 
would  be  to  impoverish  our  lives,  and 
deprive  ourselves  of  the  culture  of  the 
heart,  which,  if  a  man  has  not  learned, 
he  has  learned  nothing.  Whatever  the 
risks  to  our  happiness,  we  cannot  stand 
out  from  the  lot  of  man,  without  ceasing 
to  be  men  in  the  only  true  sense. 

It  is  not  easy  to  solve  the  problem  of 
sorrow.  Indeed  there  is  no  solution  of 
it,  unless  the  individual  soul  works  out 
its  own  solution.  Most  attempts  at  a 
philosophy  of  sorrow  just  end  in  high- 
sounding  words.     Explanations,  which 

121 


'y^y^<^« 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


\JHq386iE 


m  mama  uui  nun  utjy 


profess  to  cover  all  the  ground,  are  as 
futile  as  the  ordinary  blundering  at- 
tempts at  comfort,  which  only  charm 
ache  with  sound  and  patch  grief  with 
proverbs.  The  sorrow  of  our  hearts  is 
lot  appreciably  lessened  by  argument. 
Any  kind  of  philosophy — any  wordy 
explanation  of  the  problem — is  at  the 
best  poor  comfort.  It  is  not  the  problem 
which  brings  the  pain  in  the  first  in- 
stance: it  is  the  pain  which  brings  the 
problem.  The  heart's  bitterness  is  not 
allayed  by  an  exposition  of  the  doctrine 
of  providence.  Rachel  who  weeps  for 
her  children,  the  father  whose  little 
daughter  lies  dead  at  home,  are  not  to 
be  appeased  in  their  anguish  by  a  nicely- 
balanced  system  of  thought.  Nor  is 
surcease  of  sorrow  thus  brought  to  the 
man  to  whom  has  come  a  bereavement, 
or  a  succession  of  bereavements,  which 
makes  him  feel  that  all  the  glory  and  joy 
of  life,  its  friendship  and  love  and  hope, 
have  gone  down  into  the  grave,  so  that 
he  can  say, 

122 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


"  Three  dead  men  have  I  loved, 
And  thou  wert  last  of  the  three." 

At  the  same  time,  if  it  be  true  that 
there  is  a  meaning  in  friendship,  a  spirit- 
ual discipline  to  educate  the  heart  and  train 
the  life,  it  must  also  be  true  that  there  is 
equally  a  meaning  in  the  eclipse  of  friend- 
ship. If  we  have  enough  faith  to  see/ 
death  to  be  good,  we  will  find  out  for 
ourselves  why  it  is  good.  It  may  teach 
us  just  what  we  were  in  danger  of  for- 
getting, some  omission  in  our  lives, 
which  was  making  them  shallow  and 
poor.  It  may  be  to  one  a  sight  into  the 
mystery  of  sin ;  to  another  a  sight  into 
the  mystery  of  love.  To  one  it  comes 
with  the  lesson  of  patience,  which  is  only 
a  side  of  the  lesson  of  faith ;  to  another 
it  brings  the  message  of  sympathy.  As 
we  turn  the  subject  toward  the  light, 
there  come  gleams  of  color  from  different 
acets  of  it. 

All  life  is  an  argument  for  death.  We 
cannot  persist  long  in  the  effort  to  live 
the  Christian  life,  without  feeling  the  need 
123 


°X^*A 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


for  death.  The  higher  the  aims,  and  the 
truer  the  aspirations,  the  greater  is  the 
burden  of  living,  until  it  would  become 
intolerable.  Sooner  or  later  we  are  forced 
to  make  the  confession  of  Job,  "I  would 
not  live  alway."  To  live  forever  in  this 
sordidness,  to  have  no  reprieve  from  the 
doom  of  sin,  no  truce  from  the  struggle 
of  sin,  would  be  a  fearful  fate. 

To  the  Christian,  therefore,  death  can- 
not be  looked  on  as  evil ;  first,  because  it 
is  universal,  and  it  is  universal  because  it 
is  God-ordained.  In  St.  Peter's,  at  Rome, 
there  are  many  tombs,  in  which  death  is 
symbolized  in  its  traditional  form  as  a 
skeleton,  with  the  fateful  hour-glass  and 
the  fearful  scythe.  Death  is  the  rude 
reaper,  who  cruelly  cuts  off  life  and  all 
the  joy  of  life.  But  there  is  one  in  which 
death  is  sculptured  as  a  sweet  gentle  ■ 
motherly  woman,  who  takes  her  wearied 
child  home  to  safer  and  surer  keeping.  It 
is  a  truer  thought  than  the  other.  Death 
is  a  minister  of  God,  doing  His  pleasure, 
and  doing  us  good. 

124 


L* 

■mmwmmmm 

THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


Again,  it  cannot  be  evil  because  it 
means  a  fuller  life,  and  therefore  an  op- 
portunity for  fuller  and  further  service. 
Faith  will  not  let  a  man  hasten  the  cli- 
max; for  it  is  in  the  hands  of  love,  as  he 
himself  is.  But  death  is  the  climax  of 
life.  For  if  all  life  is  an  argument  for 
death,  then  so  also  all  death  is  an  argu- 
ment for  life. 

Jowett  says,  in  one  of  his  letters,  "  I 
cannot  sympathize  in  all  the  grounds  of 
consolation  that  are  sometimes  offered  on 
these  melancholy  occasions,  but  there  are 
two  things  which  have  always  seemed 
to  me  unchangeable :  first,  that  the  dead 
are  in  the  hands  of  God,  who  can  do  for 
them  more  than  we  can  ask  or  have;  and 
secondly,  with  respect  to  ourselves,  that 
sucTflbsses  deepen  our  views  of  life,  and 
make  us  feel  that  we  would  not  always 
be  here."  These  are  two  noble  grounds 
of  consolation,  and  they  are  enough. 

Death  is  the  great  argument  for  im- 
mortality. We  cannot  believe  that  the 
living,  loving  soul  has  ceased  to  be.  We 
125 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


MWUMPll 


cannot  believe  that  all  those  treasures  of 
mind  and  heart  are  squandered  in  empty 
air.  We  will  not  believe  it.  When  once 
we  understand  the  meaning  of  the  spirit- 
ual, we  see  the  absolute  certainty  of  eter- 
nal life ;  we  need  no  arguments  for  the 
persistence  of  being. 

To  appear  for  a  little  time  and  then 
vanish  away,  is  the  outward  biography 
of  all  men,  a  circle  of  smoke  that  breaks, 
a  bubble  on  the  stream  that  bursts,  a 
spark  put  out  by  a  breath. 

But  there  is  another  biography,  a  deeper 
and  a  permanent  one,  the  biography  of 
the  soul.  Everything  that  appears  van- 
ishes away:  that  is  its  fate,  the  fate  of 
the  everlasting  hills  as  well  as  of  the 
vapor  that  caps  them.  But  that  which 
does  not  appear,  the  spiritual  and  unseen, 
which  we  in  our  folly  sometimes  doubt 
because  it  does  not  appear,  is  the  only 
reality;  it  is  eternal  and  passeth  not 
away.  The  material  in  nature  is  only  the 
garb  of  the  spiritual,  as  speech  is  the 
clothing  of  thought.  With  our  vulgar 
126 


TH 


HE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


7* 


standards  we  often  think  of  the  thought 
as  the  unsubstantial  and  the  shadowy, 
and  the  speech  as  the  real.  But  speech 
dies  upon  the  passing  wind;  the  thought 
alone  remains.  We  consider  the  sound 
to  be  the  music,  whereas  it  is  only  the 
expression  of  the  music,  and  vanishes 
away.  Behind  the  material  world,  which 
waxes  old  as  a  garment,  there  is  an  eter- 
nal principle,  the  thought  of  God  it  rep- 
resents. Above  the  sounds  there  is  the 
music  that  can  never  die.  Beneath  our 
lives,  which  vanish  away,  there  is  a  vital 
thing,  spirit.  We  cannot  locate  it  and 
put  our  finger  on  it;  that  is  why  it  is  per- 
manent. The  things  we  can  put  our  fin- 
ger on  are  the  things  which  appear,  and 
therefore  which  fade  and  die. 

So,  death  to  the  spiritual  mind  is  only 
eclipse.  When  there  is  an  eclipse  of  the 
sun  it  does  not  mean  that  the  sun  is  blot- 
ted out  of  the  heavens:  it  only  means 
that  there  is  a  temporary  obstruction  be- 
tween it  and  us.  If  we  wait  a  little,  it 
passes.  Love  cannot  die.  Its  forms  may 
127 


Mi 

THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


nszmaoEcmi 


T 


:  sag 


change,  even  its  objects,  but  its  life  is  the 
life  of  the  universe.  It  is  not  death,  but 
sleep :  not  loss,  but  eclipse.  The  love  is 
only  transfigured  into  something  more 
ethereal  and  heavenly  than  ever  before. 
Happy  to  have  friends  on  earth,  but  hap- 
pier to  have  friends  in  heaven. 

And  it  need  not  be  even  eclipse,  except 
in  outward  form.  Communion  with  the 
unseen  can  mean  true  correspondence 
with  all  we  have  loved  and  lost,  if  only 
our  souls  were  responsive.  The  highest 
love  is  not  starved  by  the  absence  of  its 
object;  it  rather  becomes  more  tender 
and  spiritual,  with  more  of  the  ideal  in 
it.  Ordinary  affection,  on  a  lower  plane, 
dependent  on  physical  attraction,  or  on 
the  earthly  side  of  life,  naturally  crum- 
bles to  dust  when  its  foundation  is  re- 
moved. But  love  is  independent  of  time 
or  space,  and  as  a  matter  of  fact  is  puri- 
fied and  intensified  by  absence.  Separa- 
tion of  friends  is  not  a  physical  thing. 
Lives  can  be  sundered  as  if  divided  by 
infinite  distance,  even  although  materially 
128 


mm       mmmm 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


they  are  near  each  other.     This  tragedy 
is  often  enough  enacted  in  our  midst. 

The  converse  is  also  true ;  so  that  friend- 
ship does  not  really  lose  by  death:  it  lays 
up  treasure  in  heaven,  and  leaves  the 
very  earth  a  sacred  place,  made  holy  by 
happy  memories.  "The  ruins  of  Time 
build  mansions  in  Eternity,"  said  Wil- 
liam Blake,  speaking  of  the  death  of  a 
loved  brother,  with  whose  spirit  he  never 
ceased  to  converse.  There  are  people  in 
our  homes  and  our  streets  whose  highest 
life  is  with  the  dead.  They  live  in  an- 
other world.  We  can  see  in  their  eyes 
that  their  hearts  are  not  here.  It  is  as  if 
they  already  saw  the  land  that  is  very  far 
off.  It  is  only  far  off  to  our  gross  insen- 
sate senses. 

The  spiritual  world  is  not  outside  this — 
earth  of  ours.  It  includes  it  and  pervades 
it,  finding  a  new  centre  for  a  new  cir- 
cumference in  every  loving  soul  that  has 
eyes  to  see  the  Kingdom.  So,  to  hold^ 
commerce  with  the  dead  is  not  a  mere 
figure  of  speech.     Heaven  lies  about  us 

I2Q 


_ O^MT         -Strc^.*. 

THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 

not  only  in  our  infancy,  but  all  our  lives. 
We  blind  ourselves  with  dust,  and  in  our 
blindness  lay  hold  feverishly  of  the  out- 
side of  life,  mistaking  the  fugitive  and 
evanescent  for  the  truly  permanent.  If 
we  only  used  our  capacities  we  would 
take  a  more  enlightened  view  of  death. 
We  would  see  it  to  be  the  entrance  into 
a  more  radiant  and  a  more  abundant  life 
not  only  for  the  friend  that  goes  first,  but 
for  the  other  left  behind. 

Spiritual  communion  cannot  possibly 
be  interrupted  by  a  physical  change.  It 
is  because  there  is  so  little  of  the  spiritual 
in  our  ordinary  intercourse  that  death 
means  silence  and  an  end  to  commun- 
ion. There  is  a  picture  of  death,  which, 
when  looked  at  with  the  ordinary  per- 
spective, seems  to  be  a  hideous  skull, 
but  when  seen  near  at  hand  is  composed 
of  flowers,  with  the  eyes,  in  the  seem- 
ingly empty  sockets  of  the  skull,  formed 
by  two  fair  faces  of  children.  Death 
at  a  distance  looks  horrible,  the  ghastly 
spectre  of  the  race;  but  with  the  near 
130 


• 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


vision  it  is  beautiful  with  youth  and 
flowers,  and  when  we  look  into  its  eyes 
we  look  into  the  stirrings  of  life. 

Love  is  the  only  permanent  relation- 
ship among  men,  and  the  permanence  is 
not  an  accident  of  it,  but  is  of  its  very 
essence.  When  released  from  the  mere 
magnetism  of  sense,  instead  of  ceasing 
to  exist,  it  only  then  truly  comes  into 
its  largest  life.  If  our  life  were  more  a 
life  in  the  spirit,  we  would  be  sure  that 
death  can  be  at  the  worst  but  the  eclipse 
of  friendship.  Tennyson  felt  this  truth 
in  his  own  experience,  and  expressed  it 
in  noble  form  again  and  again  in  In  Me* 
moriam  — 

"  Sweet  human  hand  and  lips  and  eye, 
Dear  heavenly  friend  that  canst  not  die  J 

"Strange  friend,  past,  present,  and  to  be; 
Loved  deeplier,  darklier  understood ; 
Behold  I  dream  a  dream  of  good, 
And  mingle  all  the  world  with  thee. 

44  Thy  voice  is  on  the  rolling  air ; 
I  hear  thee  where  the  waters  run ; 
Thou  standest  in  the  rising  sun, 
And  in  the  setting  thou  art  fair.** 

It  is  not  loss,  but  momentary  eclipse,  and 
5*1 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


the  final  issue  is  a  clearer  perception  of 
immortal  love,  and  a  deeper  conscious- 
ness of  eternal  life. 

The  attitude  of  mind,  therefore,  in  any 
such  bereavement — sore  as  the  first  stroke 
must  be,  since  we  are  so  much  the  crea- 
tures of  habit,  and  it  is  hard  to  adjust 
ourselves  to  the  new  relationship — can- 
not be  an  attitude  merely  of  resignation. 
That  was  the  extent  to  which  the  im- 
perfect revelation  of  the  Old  Testament 
brought  men.  They  had  to  rest  in  their 
knowledge  of  God's  faithfulness  and 
goodness.  The  limit  of  their  faith  was, 
"The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away."  But  to  resignation  we  can 
add  joy.  "  Not  dead,  but  sleepeth,"  said' 
the  Master  of  death  and  life  to  a  sorrow- 
ing man. 

For  one  thing  it  must  mean  the  hallow- 
ing of  memory.  The  eclipse  of  love 
makes  the  love  fairer  when  the  eclipse 
passes.  The  loss  of  the  outward  purifies 
the  affection  and  softens  the  heart.  It 
brings  out  into  fact  what  was  often  only 
132 


latent  in  feeling.  Memory  adds  a  tender 
glory  to  the  past.  We  only  think  of  the 
virtues  of  the  dead:  we  forget  their 
faults.  This  is  as  it  should  be.  We 
rightly  love  the  immortal  part  of  them; 
the  fire  has  burned  up  the  dross  and  left 
pure  gold.  If  it  is  idealization,  it  repre- 
sents that  which  will  be,  and  that  which 
really  is. 

We  do  not  ask  to  forget ;  we  do  not 
want  the  so-called  consolations  which 
time  brings.  Such  an  insult  to  the  past, 
as  forgetfulness  would  be,  means  that  we 
have  not  risen  to  the  possibilities  of  com- 
munion of  spirit  afforded  us  in  the  pres- 
ent. We  would  rather  that  the  wound 
should  be  ever  fresh  than  that  the  image 
of  the  dear  past  should  fade.  It  would 
be  a  loss  to  our  best  life  if  it  would  fade. 
There  is  no  sting  in  such  a  faith.  Such 
remembrance  as  this,  which  keeps  the 
heart  green,  will  not  cumber  the  life. 
True  sentiment  does  not  weaken,  but  be- 
comes an  inspiration  to  make  our  life 
worthy  of  our  love.  It  can  save  even  a 
133 


1 


THE  ECLIPSE  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


squalid  lot  from  sordidness ;  for  however 
poor  we  may  be  in  the  world's  goods, 
we  are  rich  in  happy  associations  in  the 
past,  and  in  sweet  communion  in  the 
present,  and  in  blessed  hope  for  the  fu- 
ture. 


THE         WBECK 
OF    FRIENDSHIP 


'  They  parted — ne'er  to  meet  again  T 
Rut  never  either  found  another 
To  free  the  hollow  heart  from  paining — 
They  stood  aloof  the  scars  remaining, 
Like  cliffs  which  had  been  rent  asunder, 
A  dreary  sea  now  rolls  between  ; 
But  neither  heat,  nor  frost,  nor  thunder, 
Shall  wholly  do  away,  I  ween, 
The  marks  of  that  which  once  hath  been.** 

Coleridge,  CbristabeL 


atWlMBf  Jll^ilhW  WMWi>H  M  mmm  ini  udmiq 


\A-A^ht£s&i}sij*& 


THE         WRECK 
OF    FRIENDSHIP 


HE  eclipse  of  friendship  through 
death  is  not  nearly  so  sad  as  the 
many  ways  in  which  friendship 
may  be  wrecked.  There  are 
worse  losses  than  the  losses  of  death; 
and  to  bury  a  friendship  is  a  keener  grief 
than  to  bury  a  friend.  The  latter  softens 
the  heart  and  sweetens  the  life,  while 
the  former  hardens  and  embitters.  The 
Persian  poet  Hafiz  says,  "Thou  learnest 
no  secret  until  thou  knowest  friendship; 
since  to  the  unloving  no  heavenly  knowl- 
edge enters."  But  so  imperfect  are  our 
human  relationships,  that  many  a  man 
has  felt  that  he  has  bought  his  knowledge 
too  dearly.     Few  of  us  go  through  the 

1 37 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


mim 


world  without  some  scars  on  the  heart, 
which  even  yet  throb  if  the  finger  of 
memory  touch  them.  In  spite  of  all 
that  has  been  said,  and  may  be  said  in 
praise  of  this  golden  friendship,  it  has 
been  too  often  found  how  vain  is  the 
help  of  man.  The  deepest  tragedies  of 
life  have  been  the  failure  of  this  very 
relationship. 

In  one  way  or  other  the  loss  of  friend- 
ship comes  to  all.  The  shores  of  life  are 
strewn  with  wrecks.  The  convoy  which 
left  the  harbor  gaily  in  the  sunshine  can- 
not all  expect  to  arrive  together  in  the 
haven.  There  are  the  danger  of  storms 
and  collisions,  the  separation  of  the 
night,  and  even  at  the  best,  if  accidents 
never  occur,  the  whole  company  cannot 
all  keep  up  with  the  speed  of  the  swift- 
est. 

There  is  a  certain  pathos  in  all  loss,  but 
there  is  not  always  pain  in  it,  or  at  least 
it  is  of  varied  quality  and  extent.  Some 
losses  are  natural  and  unavoidable,  quite 
beyond  our  control,  the  result  of  resistless 
138 


mmmsmm. 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


change.  Some  loss  is  even  the  necessary 
accompaniment  of  gain.  The  loss  of 
youth  with  all  its  possessions  is  the  gain 
of  manhood  and  womanhood.  A  man 
must  put  away  childish  things,  the 
speech  and  understanding  and  thought  of 
a  child.  So  the  loss  of  some  friendship 
comes  as  a  part  of  the  natural  course  of 
things,  and  is  accepted  without  mutilat- 
ing the  life. 

Many  of  our  connections  with  people 
are  admittedly  casual  and  temporary. 
They  exist  for  mutual  convenience 
through  common  interest  at  the  time,  or 
common  purpose,  or  common  business. 
None  of  the  partners  asks  for  more  than 
the  advantage  each  derives  from  the  con- 
nection. When  it  comes  to  an  end,  we 
let  slip  the  cable  easily,  and  say  good-bye 
with  a  cheery  wave.  With  many  people 
we  meet  and  part  in  all  friendliness  and 
good  feeling,  and  will  be  glad  to  meet 
again,  but  the  parting  does  not  tear  our 
affections  by  the  roots.  When  the  busi- 
ness is  transacted  the  tie  is  loosed,  and 


139 

lj 

>ii<I^IJ<jdttlVW^VUilUJ<:tLBWJJlJl»JllJllJHO>0 

THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


we  each  go  our  separate  ways  without 
much  regret. 

At  other  times  there  is  no  thought  of 
gain,  except  the  mutual  advantage  of 
conversation  or  companionship.  We  are 
pleasant  to  each  other,  and  enjoy  the  in- 
tercourse of  kindred  tastes.  Most  of  us 
have  some  pleasant  recollections  of  happy 
meetings  with  interesting  people,  per- 
haps on  holiday  times,  when  we  felt  we 
would  be  glad  to  see  them  again  if  for- 
tune turned  round  the  wheel  again  to  the 
same  place;  but,  though  hardly  ever  did 
it  come  about  that  an  opportunity  of 
meeting  has  occurred,  we  do  not  feel  that 
our  life  is  much  the  poorer  for  the  loss. 

Also,  we  grow  out  of  some  of  our 
friendships.  This  is  to  be  expected,  since 
so  many  of  them  are  formed  thought- 
lessly, or  before  we  really  knew  either 
ourselves  or  our  friends.  They  never 
meant  very  much  to  us.  Most  boyish 
friendships  as  a  rule  do  not  last  long,  be- 
cause they  are  not  based  on  the  qualities 
which  wear  well.  Schoolboy  comrade- 
140 


CCK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


ships  are  usually  due  to  propinquity  rather 
than  to  character.  They  are  the  fruit  of 
accident  rather  than  of  affinity  of  soul. 
Boys  grow  out  of  these  as  they  grow  out 
of  their  clothes.  Now  and  again  they 
suffer  from  growing  pains,  but  it  is  more 
discomfort  than  anything  else. 

It  is  sad  to  look  back  and  realize  how 
few  of  one's  early  companionships  re- 
main,  but  it  is  not  possible  to  blame 
either  party  for  the  loss.     Distance,  sep- 
aration of  interest,  difference  of  work, 
all  operate    to  divide.     When  athletics      [X 
seemed  the  end  of  existence,  friendship 
was  based  on  football  and  baseball.     But 
as  life  opens  out,  other  standards  are  set 
up,    and    a    new  principle  of  selection 
takes  its  place.     When  the  world  is  seen 
to  be  more  than  a  ball-ground,  when  it 
is  recognized  to  be  a  stage  on  which  men 
play  many  parts,  a  new  sort  of  intimacy 
is  demanded,  and  it  does  not  follow  that 
it  will  be  with  the  same  persons.     Such 
loss  as  this  is  the  condition  which  accom- 
panies the  gain  of  growth. 
141 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


There  is  more  chance  for  the  perma- 
nence of  friendships  formed  a  little  later. 
!t  must  not  be  too  long  after  this  period, 
however;  for,  when  the  generous  time 
of  youth  has  wholly  passed,  it  becomes 
hard  to  make  new  connections.  Men 
get  overburdened  with  cares  and  per- 
sonal concerns,  and  grow  cautious  about 
making  advances.  In  youth  the  heart  is 
responsive  and  ready  to  be  generous,  and 
the  hand  aches  for  the  grasp  of  a  com- 
rade's hand,  and  the  mind  demands  fel- 
lowship in  the  great  thoughts  that  are 
beginning  to  dawn  upon  it.  The  closest 
friendships  are  formed  early  in  life,  just 
because  then  we  are  less  cautious,  more 
open  to  impressions,  and  readier  to  wel- 
come self-revelations.  After  middle  life 
a  man  does  not  find  it  easy  to  give  him- 
self away,  and  keeps  a  firmer  hand  on 
his  feelings.  Whatever  are  the  faults  of 
youth,  it  is  unworldly  in  its  estimates  as 
a  rule,  and  uncalculating  in  its  thoughts 
of  the  future. 

The  danger  to  such  friendship  is  the 
142 


mmwmwmBwmiimm.       <'■ 


danger  of  just  letting  it  lapse.  As  life 
spreads  out  before  the  eager  feet,  new 
interests  crop  up,  new  relations  are 
formed,  and  the  old  tie  gets  worn  away, 
from  want  of  adding  fresh  strands  to  it 
We  may  believe  the  advice  about  not  for- 
saking an  old  friend  because  the  new  is 
not  comparable  to  him,  but  we  can  neg- 
lect it  by  merely  letting  things  slip  past, 
which  if  used  would  be  a  new  bond  of 
union. 

As  it  is  easier  for  some  temperaments 
to  make  friends,  it  is  easier  for  some  dis- 
positions to  keep  them.  Little  faults  of 
manner,  little  occasions  of  thoughtless- 
ness, or  lack  of  the  little  courtesies,  do 
more  to  separate  people  than  glaring  mis- 
takes. There  are  some  men  so  built  that 
it  is  difficult  to  remain  on  very  close 
terms  with  them,  there  are  so  many  cor- 
ners to  knock  against.  Even  strength 
of  character,  if  unmodified  by  sweet- 
ness of  disposition,  adds  to  the  difficulty 
of  pulling  together.  Strong  will  can  so 
easily  develop  into  self-will,  decision 
H3 


1 


** 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


can  become  dogmatism ;  wit,  the  salt  of 
conversation,  loses  its  savor  when  it 
becomes  ill-natured ;  a  faculty  for  argu- 
ment is  in  danger  of  being  mere  quarrel- 
someness. 

The  ordinary  amenities  of  life  must  be 
preserved  among  friends.  We  can  never 
feel  very  safe  with  the  man  whose  hu- 
mor tends  to  bitter  speaking  or  keen  sar- 
casm, or  with  the  man  who  flares  up 
into  hasty  speech  at  every  or  no  provo- 
cation, or  with  the  man  who  is  argu- 
mentative and  assertive, — 

"Who'd  rather  on  a  gibbet  dangle 
Than  miss  his  dear  delight  to  wrangle." 

There  are  more  breaches  of  the  peace 
among  friends  through  sins  of  speech, 
than  from  any  other  cause.  We  do  nol 
treat  our  friends  with  enough  respect. 
We  make  the  vulgar  mistake  of  looking 
upon  the  common  as  if  it  were  there- 
fore cheap  in  nature.  We  ought  rather 
to  treat  our  friend  with  a  sort  of  sacred 
familiarity,  as  if  we  appreciated  the  pre- 
cious gift  his  friendship  is. 
144 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


Every  change  in  a  man's  life  brings  a 
risk  of  letting  go  something  of  the  past, 
which  it  is  a  loss  to  part  with.  A  change 
of  work,  or  a  change  of  residence,  or 
entrance  into  a  larger  sphere,  brings  a 
certain  engrossment  which  leads  to  neg- 
lect of  the  richest  intercourse  in  the  past 
life.  To  many  a  man,  even  marriage  has 
had  a  drop  of  bitterness  in  it,  because  it 
has  somehow  meant  the  severing  of  old 
and  sacred  links.  This  may  be  due  to 
the  vulgar  reason  of  wives'  quarrels,  the 
result  of  petty  jealousy;  but  it  may  be 
due  also  to  pre-occupation  and  a  subtle 
form  of  selfishness.  The  fire  needs  to 
be  kept  alive  with  fuel.  To  preserve  it, 
there  must  be  forethought,  and  care,  and 
love  expended  as  before. 

Friendship  may  lapse  through  the  mis- 
fortune of  distance.  Absence  does  not 
always  make  the  heart  grow  fonder.  It 
only  does  so,  when  the  heart  is  securely 
fixed,  and  when  it  is  a  heart  worth  fix- 
ing. More  often  the  other  proverb  is 
truer,  that  it  is  out  of  sight  out  of  mind. 
145 


m 


*«^                  m\ 

THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


It  is  so  easy  for  a  man  to  become  self- 
centred,  and  to  impoverish  his  affections 
through  sheer  neglect.  Ties  once  close 
get  frayed  and  strained  till  they  break, 
and  we  discover  that  we  have  said  fare- 
well to  the  past.  Some  kind  of  inter- 
course is  needed  to  maintain  friendship. 
There  is  a  pathos  about  this  gradual  drift- 
ing away  of  lives,  borne  from  each  other, 
it  sometimes  seems,  by  opposing  tides, 
as  if  a  resistless  power  separated  them, 

u  And  bade  betwixt  their  souls  to  be 
The  unplumbed,  salt,  estranging  sea." 

Or  friendship  may  lapse  through  the 
fault  of  silence.  The  misfortune  of  dis- 
tance may  be  overcome  by  love,  but  the 
fault  of  silence  crushes  out  feeling  as  the 
falling  rain  kills  the  kindling  beacon. 
Even  the  estrangements  and  misunder- 
standings which  will  arise  to  all  could 
not  long  remain,  where  there  is  a  frank 
and  candid  interchange  of  thought. 
Hearts  grow  cold  toward  each  other 
through  neglect.  There  is  a  suggestive 
146 


LWLPl»J>ftJI<Lt.lOHU)lOllli>HL  J>UU»Ul  j>uljiii  Jit  mM  MMWB&Jtt^^M 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


T 


word  from  the  old  Scandinavian  Edda% 
"Go  often  to  the  house  of  thy  friend; 
for  weeds  soon  choke  up  the  unused 
path."  It  is  hard  to  overcome  again  the 
alienation  caused  by  neglect;  for  there 
grows  up  a  sense  of  resentment  and  in-^ 
jured  feeling. 

Among  the  petty  things  which  wreck  y 
friendships,  none  is  so  common  and  so 
unworthy  as  money.  It  is  pitiable  that 
Jt  should  be  so.  Thackeray  speaks  of  the 
remarkable  way  in  which  a  five-pound 
note  will  break  up  a  half-century's  at- 
tachment between  two  brethren,  and  it 
is  a  common  cynical  remark  of  the  world 
that  the  way  to  lose  a  friend  is  to  lend 
him  money.  There  is  nothing  which 
seems  to  affect  the  mind  more,  and  color 
the  very  heart's  blood,  than  money. 
There  seems  a  curse  in  it  sometimes,  so 
potent  is  it  for  mischief.  Poverty,  if  it 
be  too  oppressive  grinding  down  the  face, 
may  often  hurt  the  heart-life;  but  per- 
haps oftener  still  it  only  reveals  what  true 
treasures  there  are  in  the  wealth  of  the 
147 


BEOSi 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


t 


affections.  Whereas,  we  know  what 
heartburnings,  and  rivalries,  and  envy- 
ings,  are  occasioned  by  this  golden  apple 
of  discord.  Most  of  the  disputes  which 
separate  brethren  are  about  the  dividing 
of  the  inheritance,  and  it  does  seem  to  be 
the  case  that  few  friendships  can  survive 
the  test  of  money. 

.    "Neither  a  borrower,  nor  a  lender  be ; 
For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend. " 

There  must  be  something  wrong  with 
the  friendship  which  so  breaks  down.  It 
ought  to  be  able  to  stand  a  severer  strain 
than  that.  But  the  inner  reason  of  the 
failure  is  often  that  there  has  been  a 
moral  degeneracy  going  on,  and  a  weak- 
ening of  the  fibre  of  character  on  one 
side,  or  on  both  sides.  The  particular 
dispute,  whether  it  be  about  money  or 
about  anything  else,  is  only  (he  occasion 
which  reveals  the  slackening  of  the  mo- 
rale. The  innate  delicacy  and  self-respect 
of  the  friend  who  asks  the  favor  may 
have  been  damaged  through  a  series  of 
148 


III 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


similar  importunities,  or  there  may  have 
been  a  growing  hardness  of  heart  and 
selfishness  in  the  friend  who  refuses  the 
request.  Otherwise,  if  two  are  on  terms 
of  communion,  it  is  hard  to  see  why  the 
giving  or  receiving  of  this  service  should 
be  any  more  unworthy  than  any  other 
help,  which  friends  can  grant  to  each 
other.  True  commerce  of  the  heart 
should  make  all  other  needful  commerce 
possible.  Communion  includes  commu- 
nism. To  have  things  in  common  does 
not  seem  difficult,  when  there  is  love  in 
common. 

Friendship  has  also  been  wrecked  by 
outside  means,  by  the  evil  of  others,, 
through  the  evil  speaking,  or  the  envy, 
or  the  whispering  tongues  that  delight  in 
scandal.  Some  mean  natures  rejoice  in 
sowing  discord,  carrying  tales  with  just 
the  slightest  turn  of  a  phrase,  or  even  a 
tone  of  the  voice,  which  gives  a  sinister 
reading  to  an  innocent  word  or  act. 
Frankness  can  always  prevent  such  from 
permanently  wrecking  friendship.  Be- 
149 


sides,  we  should  judge  no  man,  still  less 
a  trusted  friend,  by  a  report  of  an  inci- 
dent or  a  hasty  word.  We  should  judge 
our  friend  by  his  record,  by  what  we 
know  of  his  character.  When  anything 
inconsistent  with  that  character  comes 
before  our  notice,  it  is  only  justice  to  him 
to  at  least  suspend  judgment,  and  it 
would  be  wisdom  to  refuse  to  credit  it  at 
all. 

We  sometimes  wonder  to  find  a  friend 
cold  and  distant  to  us,  and  perhaps  we 
moralize  on  the  fickleness  and  incon- 
stancy of  men,  but  the  reason  may  be 
to  seek  in  ourselves.  We  cannot  ex- 
pect the  pleasure  of  friendship  without 
the  duty,  the  privilege  without  the  re- 
sponsibility. We  cannot  break  off  the 
threads  of  the  web,  and  then,  when  the 
mood  is  on  us,  continue  it  as  though 
nothing  had  happened.  If  such  a  break- 
age has  occurred,  we  must  go  back  ana 
patiently  join  the  threads  together  again. 
Thoughtlessness  has  done  more  harm  in 
this  respect  than  ill-will.  If  we  have  lost 
150 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


a  friend  through  selfish  neglect,  the  loss 
is  ours,  and  we  cannot  expect  to  take  up 
the  story  where  we  left  off  years  ago. 
There  is  a  serene  impudence  about  the 
treatment  some  mete  out  to  their  friends, 
dropping  them  whenever  it  suits,  and 
thinking  to  take  them  up  when  it  hap- 
pens once  more  to  suit.  We  cannot  ex- 
pect to  walk  with  another,  when  we 
have  gone  for  miles  along  another  way. 
We  will  have  to  go  back,  and  catch  him 
up  again.  If  the  fault  has  been  ours,  de- 
sire and  shame  will  give  our  feet  wings. 
The  real  source  of  separation  is  ulti- 
mately a  spiritual  one.  We  cannot  walk 
with  another  unless  we  are  agreed.  The 
lapse  of  friendship  is  often  due  to  this, 
that  one  has  let  the  other  travel  on  alone. 
If  one  has  sought  pleasure,  and  the  other 
has  sought  truth;  if  one  has  cumbered 
his  life  with  the  trivial  and  the  petty,  and 
the  other  has  filled  his  with  high  thoughts 
and  noble  aspirations ;  if  their  hearts  are 
on  different  levels,  it  is  natural  that  they 
should  now  be  apart.  We  cannot  stay 
151 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


behind  with  the  camp-followers,  and  at 
the  same  time  fight  in  the  van  with  the 
heroes.  If  we  would  keep  our  best 
friends,  we  must  go  with  them  in  sym- 
pathy, and  be  able  to  share  their  thoughts. 
In  the  letters  of  Dean  Stanley,  there  is  one 
from  Jowett  to  Stanley,  which  brings  out 
this  necessity.  "I  earnestly  hope  that 
the  friendship,  which  commenced  be- 
tween us  many  years  ago,  may  be  a 
blessing  to  last  us  through  life.  I  feel  that 
if  it  is  to  be  so  we  must  both  go  onward, 
therwise  the  tear  and  wear  of  life,  and 
e  'having  travelled  over  each  other's 
minds,'  and  a  thousand  accidents  will  be 
sufficient  to  break  it  off.  I  have  often 
felt  the  inability  to  converse  with  you, 
but  never  for  an  instant  the  least  alien- 
ation. There  is  no  one  who  would  not 
think  me  happy  in  having  such  a  friend." 
It  is  not,  however,  so  much  the  equal 
pace  of  the  mind  which  is  necessary,  as 
the  equal  pace  of  the  spirit.  We  may 
think  about  a  very  brilliant  friend  that  he 
will  outstrip  us,  and  outgrow  us.    The 

152 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


fear  is  natural,  but  if  there  be  spiritual 
oneness  it  is  an  unfounded  fear. 

"Yet  oft,  when  sundown  skirts  the  moor, 
An  inner  trouble  I  behold, 
A  spectral  doubt  which  makes  me  cold, 
That  I  should  be  thy  mate  no  more." 

But  love  is  not  dependent  on  intellect. 
The  great  bond  of  union  is  not  that  both, 
parties  are  alike  in  mind,  but  that  they 
are  akin  in  soul.  Mere  intellect  only  di- 
vides men  further  than  the  ordinary  nat- 
ural and  artificial  distinctions  that  already 
exist.  There  are  endless  instances  of 
this  disuniting  influence  to  be  seen,  in 
the  contempt  of  learning  for  ignorance, 
the  derisive  attitude  which  knowledge 
assumes  toward  simplicity,  the  metro- 
politan disdain  for  provincial  Galilee,  the 
rabies  theologica  which  is  ever  ready  to 
declare  that  this  people  that  knoweth  not 
the  law  is  accursed.  It  is  love,  not  logic, 
which  can  unite  men.  Love  is  the  one 
solvent  to  break  down  all  barriers,  and 
love  has  other  grounds  for  its  existence 
than  merely  intellectual  ones.  So  that 
153 


jfltfirfa  fll-AvLUinj«  WCLll<L«^IJUjaAWJM<LJUVLVi\LB1^itWJtllll.Jlt^iTirei1    • 

mmmmmmmmmiwmsim 

although  similarity  of  taste  is  another 
bond  and  is  perhaps  necessary  for  the 
perfect  friendship,  it  is  not  its  founda- 
tion ;  and  if  the  foundation  be  not  under- 
mined, there  is  no  reason  why  difference 
of  mental  power  should  wreck  the  struc- 
ture. 

However  it  happen  that  friends  are 
separated,  it  is  always  sad ;  for  the  loss 
of  a  friendship  is  the  loss  of  an  ideal. 
Sadder  than  the  pathos  of  unmated  hearts 
is  the  pathos  of  severed  souls.  It  is  al- 
ways a  pain  to  find  a  friend  look  on  us 
with  cold  stranger's  eyes,  and  to  know 
ourselves  dead  of  hopes  of  future  inti- 
macy. It  is  a  pain  even  when  we  have 
nothing  to  blame  ourselves  with,  much 
more  so  when  we  feel  that  ours  is  the 
fault.  It  would  not  seem  to  matter  very 
much,  if  it  were  not  such  a  loss  to  both ; 
for  friendship  is  one  of  the  appointed 
means  of  saving  the  life  from  world- 
liness  and  selfishness.  It  is  the  greatest 
education  in  the  world ;  for  it  is  educa- 
tion of  the  whole  man,  of  the  affections 
154 


UNIVfc. 

OF 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


T 


as  well  as  the  intellect.  Nothing  of 
worldly  success  can  make  up  for  the 
want  of  it.  And  true  friendship  is  also  a 
moral  preservative.  It  teaches  something 
of  the  joy  ,of  service,  and  the  beauty  of 
sacrifice.  We  cannot  live  an  utterly  use- 
less life,  if  we  have  to  think  for,  and  act 
for,  another.  It  keeps  love  in  the  heart, 
and  keeps  God  in  the  life. 

The  greatest  and  most  irretrievable 
wreck  of  friendship  is  the  result  of  a 
moral  breakdown  in  one  of  the  associates. 
Worse  than  the  separation  of  the  grave  is  - 
the  desolation  of  the  heart  by  faithless- 
ness. More  impassable  than  the  gulf  of 
distance  with  the  estranging  sea,  more 
separating  than  the  gulf  of  death,  is  the 
great  gulf  fixed  between  souls  through 
deceit  and  shame.  It  is  as  the  sin  of 
Judas.  Said  a  sorrowful  Psalmist,  who 
had  known  this  experience,  "Mine  own 
familiar  friend  in  whom  I  trusted,  which 
did  eat  of  my  bread,  hath  lifted  up  his 
heel  against  me."  And  another  Psalmist 
sobs  out  the  same  lament,  "It  was  not 
155 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


an  enemy  that  reproached  me,  then  I 
could  have  borne  it,  but  it  was  thou,  a 
man  mine  equal,  my  guide  and  mine  ac- 
quaintance. We  took  sweet  counsel  to- 
gether, and  walked  into  the  house  of  God 
in  company."  The  loss  of  a  friend  by 
any  of  the  common  means  is  not  so  hard, 
as  to  find  a  friend  faithless.  The  trustful 
soul  has  often  been  disillusioned  thus. 
The  rod  has  broken  in  the  hand  that 
leaned  on  it,  and  has  left  its  red  wound 
on  the  palm.  There  is  a  deeper  wound 
on  the  heart. 

The  result  of  such  a  breakdown  of  com- 
radeship is  often  bitterness,  and  cynical 
distrust  of  man.  It  is  this  experience 
which  gives  point  to  the  worldling's 
sneer,  Defend  me  from  my  friends,  I  can 
defend  myself  from  my  enemies.  We 
cannot  wonder  sometimes  at  the  cynicism. 
It  is  like  treason  within  the  camp,  against 
which  no  man  can  guard.  It  is  a  stab  in 
the  back,  a  cowardly  assassination  of  the 
heart.  Treachery  like  this  usually  means 
a  sudden  fall  from  the  ideal  for  the  de- 
156 


J* 


ceived  one,  and  the  ideal  can  only  be  re- 
covered, if  at  all,  by  a  slow  and  toilsome 
ascent,  foot  by  foot  and  step  by  step. 

Failure  of  one  often  leads  to  distrust  of 
all.  This  is  the  terrible  responsibility  of 
friendship.  We  have  more  than  the  hap- 
piness of  our  friend  in  our  power;  we 
have  his  faith.  Most  men  who  are  cyn- 
ical about  women  are  so,  because  of  the 
inconstancy  of  one.  Most  sneers  at 
friendship  are,  to  begin  with  at  least,  the 
expression  of  individual  pain,  because 
the  man  has  known  the  shock  of  the 
lifted  heel.  Distrust  works  havoc  on  the 
character;  for  it  ends  in  unbelief  of  good- 
ness itself.  And  distrust  always  meets 
with  its  own  likeness,  and  is  paid  back 
in  its  own  coin.  Suspicion  breeds  sus- 
picion, and  the  conduct  of  life  on  such 
principles  becomes  a  tug-of-war  in  which 
Greek  is  matched  with  Greek. 

The    social    virtues,   which  keep  the 

whole    community    together,    are    thus 

closely  allied  to  the  supreme  virtue  of 

friendship.  Aristotle  had  reason  in  making 

157 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


X 


it  the  nexus  between  his  Ethics  and  his 
Politics.  Truth,  good  faith,  honest  deal- 
ing between  man  and  man,  are  necessary 
for  any  kind  of  intercourse,  even  that  of 
business.  Men  can  do  nothing  with  each 
other,  if  they  have  not  a  certain  minimum 
of  trust.  There  have  been  times  when 
there  seems  to  be  almost  an  epidemic  of 
faithlessness,  when  the  social  bond  seems 
loosened,  when  men's  hands  are  raised 
against  each  other,  when  confidence  is 
paralyzed,  and  people  hardly  know  whom 
to  trust. 

The  prophet  Micah,  who  lived  in  such 
a  time,  expresses  this  state  of  distrust: 
"  Trust  ye  not  any  friend,  put  ye  no  con- 
fidence in  a  familiar  friend.  A  man's  ene- 
mies are  of  his  own  household."  This 
means  anarchy,  and  society  becomes  like 
a  bundle  of  sticks  with  the  cord  cut.  The 
cause  is  always  a  decay  of  religion ;  for 
law  is  based  on  morality,  and  morality 
finds  its  strongest  sanction  in  religion. 
Selfishness  results  in  anarchy,  a  reversion 
to  the  Ishmaelite  type  of  life. 
158 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


The  story  of  the  French  Revolution  has 
in  it  some  of  the  darkest  pages  in  the  his- 
tory of  modern  civilization,  due  to  the 
breakdown  of  social  trust.  The  Revo- 
lution, like  Saturn,  took  to  devouring  her 
own  children.  Suspicion,  during  the 
reign  of  terror,  brooded  over  the  heads 
of  men,  and  oppressed  their  hearts.  The 
ties  of  blood  and  fellowship  seemed  bro- 
ken, and  the  sad  words  of  Christ  had 
their  horrid  fulfillment,  that  the  brother 
would  deliver  up  the  brother  to  death, 
and  the  father  the  child,  and  the  children 
rise  up  against  the  parents  and  cause 
them  to  be  put  to  death.  There  are 
some  awful  possibilities  in  human  na- 
ture. In  Paris  of  these  days  a  man  had 
to  be  ever  on  his  guard,  to  watch  his 
acts,  his  words,  even  his  looks.  It 
meant  for  a  time  a  collapse  of  the 
whole  idea  of  the  state.  It  was  a  panic, 
worse  than  avowed  civil  war.  Friend- 
ship, of  course,  could  have  little  place  in 
such  a  frightful  palsy  of  mutual  confi- 
dence, though  there  were,  for  the  honor 


j»MPim«wg.: 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


of  the  race,  some  noble  exceptions.  The 
wreck  of  friendship  through  deceit  is  al- 
ways a  step  toward  social  anarchy;  for 
it  helps  to  break  down  trust  and  good 
faith  among  men. 

The  wreck  of  friendship  is  also  a  blow 
to  religion.  Many  have  lost  their  faith 
in  God,  because  they  have  lost,  through 
faithlessness,  their  faith  in  man.  Doubt 
of  the  reality  of  love  becomes  doubt  of 
the  reality  of  the  spiritual  life.  To  be 
unable  to  see  the  divine  in  man,  is  to 
have  the  eyes  blinded  to  the  divine  any- 
whereo  Deception  in  the  sphere  of  love 
shakes  the  foundation  of  religion.  Its  re- 
sult is  atheism,  not  perhaps  as  a  conscious 
speculative  system  of  thought,  but  as  a 
subtle  practical  influence  on  conduct.  It 
corrupts  the  fountain  of  life,  and  taints  the 
whole  stream.  Despair  of  love,  if  final 
and  complete,  would  be  despair  of  God; 
for  God  is  love.  Thus,  the  wreck  of 
friendship  often  means  a  temporary 
wreck  of  faith.  It  ought  not  to  be  so; 
but  that  there  is  a  danger  of  it  should 
160 


THE  WRECK  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


impress  us  with  a  deeper  sense  of  the 
responsibility  attached  to  our  friend- 
ships. Our  life  follows  the  fortunes  of 
our  love. 


T3 


w 


THE     RENEWING 
OF    FRIENDSHIP 

',  i  i  i  ,,  '         ...  ssassaEaJEsss 


"  Perhaps  we  may  go  further ;  and  say  that  friends, 
whose  friendship  has  been  broken  off,  should  not  entirely 
forget  their  former  intercourse  ;  and  that  just  as  we  hold 
that  we  ought  to  serve  friends  before  strangers,  so  former 
friends  have  some  claims  upon  us  on  the  ground  of  past 
friendship,  unless  extraordinary  depravity  were  the  cause 
of  our  parting."— Akistotlz. 


WMBYMM^^M 


t 


THE     RENEWING 
OF     FRIENDSHIP 


T  is  a  sentiment  of  the  poets  and 
romancers  that  love  is  rather 
helped  by  quarrels.  There  must 
be  some  truth  in  it,  as  we  find 
the  idea  expressed  a  hundred  times  in 
different  forms  in  literature.  We  find  it 
among  the  wisdom  of  the  ancients,  and 
it  remains  still  as  one  of  the  conventional 
properties  of  the  dramatist,  and  one  of 
the  accepted  traditions  of  the  novelist. 
It  is  expressed  in  maxim  and  apothegm, 
in  play  and  poem.  One  of  our  old  pre- 
Elizabethan  writers  has  put  it  in  classic 
form  in  English: — 

"The  falling  out  of  faithful  friends  is  the  renewing  of  love.** 

It  is  the  chief  stock-in-trade  of  the 
165 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


■?-:■■■■! 


writer  of  fiction,  to  depict  the  misunder- 
standings which  arise  between  two  per- 
sons, through  the  sin  of  one,  or  the  folly 
of  both,  or  the  villainy  of  a  third;  then 
come  the  means  by  which  the  tangled 
skein  is  unravelled,  and  in  the  end  every- 
thing is  satisfactorily  explained,  and  the 
sorely-tried  characters  are  ushered  into  a 
happiness  stronger  and  sweeter  than  ever 
before.  Friends  quarrel,  and  are  miser- 
able in  their  state  of  separation;  and 
afterward,  when  the  friendship  is  re- 
newed, it  is  discovered  that  the  bitter 
dispute  was  only  a  blessing  in  disguise, 
as  the  renewal  itself  was  an  exquisite 
pleasure,  and  the  result  has  been  a  firmer 
and  more  stable  relationship  of  love  and 
trust. 

The  truth  in  this  sentiment  is,  of  course, 
the  evident  one,  that  a  man  often  only 
wakens  to  the  value  of  a  possession  when 
he  is  in  danger  of  losing  it.  The  foice  of 
a  current  is  sometimes  only  noted  when 
it  is  opposed  by  an  obstacle.  Two  per- 
sons may  discover,  by  a  temporary  alien- 
166 


\m£ 


iiiJLSL 


ation,  how  much  they  really  care  for 
each  other.  It  may  be  that  previously 
they  took  things  for  granted.  Their  af- 
fection had  lost  its  first  glitter,  and  was 
accepted  as  a  commonplace.  Through 
some  misunderstanding  or  dispute,  they 
broke  off  their  friendly  relationship,  feel- 
ing sure  that  they  had  come  to  an  end 
of  their  regard.  They  could  never  again 
be  on  the  same  close  terms;  hot  words 
had  been  spoken;  taunts  and  reproaches 
had  passed;  eyes  had  flashed  fire,  and 
they  parted  in  anger — only  to  learn  that 
their  love  for  each  other  was  as  real  and 
as  strong  as  ever.  The  very  difference 
revealed  the  true  union  of  hearts  that  had 
existed.  They  had  been  blind  to  the 
strength  of  their  mutual  regard,  till  it  was 
so  painfully  brought  to  their  notice.  The 
love  is  renewed  with  a  more  tender  sense 
of  its  sacredness,  and  a  more  profound 
feeling  of  its  strength.  The  dissensions 
only  displayed  the  union;  the  discord 
drove  them  to  a  fuller  harmony.  This  is 
a  natural  and  common  experience. 
167 


Ml 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHI 


«= 


But  a  mistake  may  easily  be  made  by 
confusing  cause  and  effect.  * '  The  course 
of  true  love  never  did  run  smooth  "— 
but  the  obstacles  in  the  channel  do  not 
produce  the  swiftness  and  the  volume  of 
the  stream  ;  they  only  show  them.  There 
may  be  an  unsuspected  depth  and  force 
for  the  first  time  brought  to  light  when 
the  stream  strikes  a  barrier,  but  the  bar- 
rier is  merely  the  occasion,  not  the  cause, 
of  the  revelation.  To  mistake  the  one 
for  the  other,  may  lead  to  a  false  and 
stupid  policy.  Many,  through  this  mis- 
take, act  as  though  dissension  were  of 
the  very  nature  of  affection,  and  as  if  the 
one  must  necessarily  react  on  the  other 
for  good.  Some  foolish  people  will  some- 
times even  produce  disagreement  for  the 
supposed  pleasure  of  agreeing  once  more, 
and  quarrel  for  the  sake  of  making  it  up 
again. 

Rather,  the  end  of  love  is  near  at  hand, 
when  wrangling  can  live  in  its  presence. 
It  is  not  true  that  love  is  helped  by 
quarrels,  except  in  the  small  sense  already 


1 68 


j9 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


indicated.  A  man  may  quarrel  once  too 
often  with  his  friend,  and  a  brother  of- 
fended, says  the  proverb,  is  harder  to  be 
won  than  a  strong  city,  and  such  con- 
tentions are  like  the  bars  of  a  castle.  It 
is  always  a  dangerous  experiment  to 
willfully  test  affection,  besides  being  often 
a  cruel  one.  Disputing  is  a  shock  to  con- 
fidence, and  without  confidence  friend- 
ship cannot  continue.  A  state  of  feud, 
even  though  a  temporary  one,  often  em- 
bitters the  life,  and  leaves  its  mark  on  the 
heart.  Desolated  homes  and  lonely  lives 
are  witnesses  of  the  folly  of  any  such 
policy.  From  the  root  of  bitterness  there 
cannot  possibly  blossom  any  of  the  fair 
flowers  of  love.  The  surface  truth  of 
the  poets'  sentiment  we  have  acknowl- 
edged and  accounted  for,  but  it  is  only 
a  surface  truth.  The  best  of  friends  will 
fall  out,  and  the  best  of  them  will  renew 
their  friendship,  but  it  is  always  at  a 
great  risk,  and  sometimes  it  strains  the 
foundations  of  their  esteem  for  each 
other  to  shaking  : 

169 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


"  And  blessings  on  the  falling  out 
That  all  the  more  endears, 
When  we  fall  out  with  those  we  love 
And  kiss  again  with  tears  1 " 

But  in  any  serious  rupture  of  friendship 
it  can  only  be  a  blessing  when  it  means 
the  tears  of  repentance,  and  these  are 
often  tears  of  blood.  In  all  renewing 
there  must  be  an  element  of  repentance, 
and  however  great  the  joy  of  having  re- 
gained the  old  footing,  there  is  the  mem- 
ory of  pain,  and  the  presence  of  regret. 
To  cultivate  contention  as  an  art,  and  to 
trade  upon  the  supposed  benefit  of  re- 
newing friendship,  is  a  folly  which  brings 
its  own  retribution. 

The  disputatious  person  for  this  reason 
never  makes  a  good  friend.  In  friend- 
ship men  look  for  peace,  and  concord, 
and  some  measure  of  content.  There 
are  enough  battles  to  fight  outside,  enough 
jarring  and  jostling  in  the  street,  enough 
disputing  in  the  market-place,  enough 
discord  in  the  workaday  world,  with- 
out having  to  look  for  contention  in  the 
realm  of  the  inner  life  also.  There,  if 
170 


HE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


anywhere,  we  ask  for  an  end  of  strife. 
Friendship  is  the  sanctuary  of  the  heart, 
and  the  peace  of  the  sanctuary  should 
brood  over  it.  Its  chief  est  glory  is  that 
the  dust  and  noise  of  contest  are  ex- 
cluded. 

It  must  needs  be  that  offences  come. 
It  is  not  only  that  the  world  is  full  of 
conflict  and  controversy,  and  every  man 
must  take  his  share  in  the  fights  of  his 
time.  We  are  born  into  the  battle;  we 
are  born  for  the  battle.  But  apart  from 
the  outside  strife,  from  which  we  can- 
not separate  ourselves,  and  do  not  desire 
to  separate  ourselves  if  we  are  true  men, 
the  strange  thing  is  that  it  looks  as  if  it 
must  needs  be  that  offences  come  even 
among  brethren.  The  bitterest  disputes 
in  life  are  among  those  who  are  nearest 
each  other  in  spirit.  We  do  not  quarrel 
with  the  man  in  the  street,  the  man  with 
whom  we  have  little  or  no  communica- 
tion. He  has  not  the  chance,  nor  the 
power,  to  chafe  our  soul,  and  ruffle  our 
temper.  If  need  be,  we  can  afford  to 
171 


35 
0 


K 


TH 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


despise,  or  at  least  to  neglect  him.  It  is 
the  man  of  our  own  household,  near  us 
in  life  and  spirit,  who  runs  the  risk  of 
the  only  serious  dissensions  with  us. 
The  man  with  whom  we  have  most 
points  of  contact  presents  the  greatest 
number  of  places  where  difference  can 
occur.  Only  from  circles  that  touch  each 
other  can  a  tangent  strike  off  from  the 
same  point.  A  man  can  only  make  ene- 
mies among  his  friends.  A  certain  amount 
of  opposition  and  enmity  a  man  must  be 
prepared  for  in  this  world,  unless  he  live 
a  very  invertebrate  life.  Outside  oppo- 
sition cannot  embitter,  for  it  cannot  touch 
the  soul.  But  that  two  who  have  walked 
as  friends,  one  in  aim  and  one  in  heart, 
perhaps  of  the  same  household  of  faith, 
should  stand  face  to  face  with  hard 
brows  and  gleaming  eyes,  should  speak 
as  foes  and  not  as  lovers  of  the  same 
love,  is,  in  spite  of  the  poets  and  roman- 
cers, the  bitterest  moment  of  life. 

There  are  some  we  cannot  hurt  even  if 
we  would;  whom  all  the  venom  of  our 

,7a 


mMmmmwmwism 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


nature  could  not  touch,  because  we  mean 
nothing  to  them.  But  there  are  others 
in  our  power,  whom  we  can  stab  with  a 
word,  and  these  are  our  brethren,  our 
familiar  friends,  our  comrades  at  work, 
our  close  associates,  our  fellow  laborers 
in  God's  vineyard.  It  is  not  the  crowd 
that  idly  jostle  us  in  the  street  who  can 
hurt  us  to  the  quick,  but  a  familiar  friend 
in  whom  we  trusted.  He  has  a  means 
of  ingress  barred  to  strangers,  and  can 
strike  home  as  no  other  can.  This  ex- 
plains why  family  quarrels,  ruptures  in 
the  inner  circle,  Church  disputes,  are  so 
bitter.  They  come  so  near  us.  An  of- 
fended brother  is  hard  to  win,  because 
the  very  closeness  of  the  previous  inti- 
macy brings  a  rankling  sense  of  injustice 
and  the  resentment  of  injured  love.  An 
injury  from  the  hand  of  a  friend  seems 
such  a  wanton  thing,  and  the  heart  hard- 
ens itself  with  the  sense  of  wrong,  and  a 
separation  ensues  like  the  bars  of  a  castle. 
It  must  needs  be  that  offences  come, 
but  woe  unto  him  by  whom  they  come. 
173 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


LPmrmnofi 


The  strife-makers  find  in  themselves,  in 
their  barren  heart  and  empty  life,  their 
own  appropriate  curse.  The  blow  thev 
strike  comes  back  upon  themselves. 
Worse  than  the  choleric  temperament  is 
the  peevish,  sullen  nature.  The  one 
usually  finds  a  speedy  repentance  for  his 
hot  and  hasty  mood ;  the  other  is  a  con- 
stant menace  to  friendship,  and  acts  like 
a  perpetual  irritant.  Its  root  is  selfish- 
ness, and  it  grows  by  what  it  feeds  on. 

When  offences  do  come,  we  may  in- 
deed use  them  as  opportunities  for  growth 
in  gracious  ways,  and  thus  turn  them 
into  blessings  on  the  lives  of  both.  To 
the  offended  it  may  be  an  occasion  for 
patience  and  forgiveness;  to  the  offender, 
an  occasion  for  humility  and  frank  con- 
fession; and  to  both,  a  renewing  of  love 
less  open  to  offence  in  the  future.  There 
are  some  general  counsels  about  the 
making  up  of  differences,  though  each 
case  needs  special  treatment  for  itself, 
which  will  easily  be  found  if  once  the 
desire  for  concord  be  established.  Christ's 
174 


u\^ujmji^j\^n^i^\u;i^vuniun^m]XJLiiiLi)\^^^^^^^^ 


I 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


recipe  for  a  quarrel  among  brethren  is: 
"If  thy  brother  shall  trespass  against 
thee,  go  and  tell  him  his  fault  between 
thee  and  him  alone;  if  he  shall  hear  thee, 
thou  hast  gained  thy  brother." 

Much  of  our  dissension  is  due  to  mis- 
understanding, which  could  be  put  right 
by  a  few  honest  words  and  a  little  open 
dealing.  Human  beings  so  often  live  at 
cross  purposes  with  each  other,  when  a 
frank  word,  or  a  simple  confession  of 
wrong,  almost  a  look  or  a  gesture,  would 
heal  the  division.  Resentment  grows 
through  brooding  over  a  fancied  slight. 
Hearts  harden  themselves  in  silence,  and, 
as  time  goes  on,  it  becomes  more  diffi- 
cult to  break  through  the  silence.  Often 
there  are  strained  relations  among  men, 
who,  at  the  bottom  of  their  hearts,  have 
sincere  respect  for  each  other,  and  smoul- 
dering affection  also,  which  only  needs  a 
little  coaxing  of  the  spark  to  burst  out 
again  into  a  dancing  flame.  There  is  a 
terrible  waste  of  human  friendship,  a 
waste  of  power  which  might  be  used  to 
175 


HWHJMHI 


;ep- 


bless  all  our  lives,  through  our  sinful  se 
arations,  our  selfish  exclusiveness,  our 
resentful  pride.  We  let  the  sweetest 
souls  we  have  met  die  without  acknowl- 
edging our  debt  to  them.  We  stand 
aside  in  haughty  isolation,  till  the  open 
grave  opens  our  sealed  hearts— too  late. 
We  let  the  chance  of  reconciliation  pass 
till  it  is  irrevocable.  Most  can  remember 
a  tender  spot  in  the  past  somewhere,  a 
sore  place,  a  time  when  discord  entered 
with  another  they  loved,  and 

'*  Each  spake  words  of  high  disdain 
And  insult  to  his  heart's  best  brother." 

And  in  some  cases,  as  with  the  friends 
in  Coleridge's  great  poem,  the  parting 
has  been  eternal,  and  neither  has  evei 
since  found  another  such  friend  to  fill  the 
life  with  comfort,  and  free  the  hollow 
heart  from  paining. 

There  is  more  evil  from  such  a  state  ot 
discord  than  the  mere  loss  it  is  to  both ; 
it  influences  the  whole  heart-life,  creat- 
ing sometimes  bitterness,  sometimes  uni- 
176 


UftlftWH  pvwuuuLomuurvunA  mn.  mi  uwinmHWVl0*  bj^hHLMA 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


versal  suspicion,  sometimes  cynicism. 
Hatred  is  contagious,  as  love  is.  They 
have  an  effect  on  the  whole  character, 
and  are  not  confined  to  the  single  inci- 
dent which  causes  the  love  or  the  hate. 
To  hate  a  single  one  of  God's  creatures  is 
to  harden  the  heart  to  some  extent 
against  all.  Love  is  the  centre  of  a  cir- 
cle, which  broadens  out  in  ever-widening 
circumference.  Dante  tells  us  in  La  Vita 
Nuova  that  the  effect  of  his  love  for  Bea- 
trice was  to  open  his  heart  to  all,  and  to 
sweeten  all  his  life.  He  speaks  of  the 
surpassing  virtue  of  her  very  salutation 
to  him  in  the  street.  "  When  she  ap- 
peared in  any  place,  it  seemed  to  me,  by 
the  hope  of  her  excellent  salutation,  that 
there  was  no  man  mine  enemy  any 
longer;  and  such  warmth  of  charity  came 
upon  me  that  most  certainly  in  that  mo- 
ment I  would  have  pardoned  whomso- 
ever had  done  me  an  injury;  and  if  any 
one  should  then  have  questioned  me  con- 
cerning any  matter,  I  could  only  have 
said  unto  him  '  Love,*  with  a  countenance 
177 


T 


■  }Ji\ 
\\  [  r 

1 V 
1  lV°A^Fi« 

I 

ymmmmmmmsmmmms® 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


clothed  in  humbleness."  His  love  bre 
sweetness  in  his  mind,  and  took  in  every 
thing  within  the  blessed  sweep  of  its 
range.  Hatred  also  is  the  centre  of  a  cir- 
cle, which  has  a  baneful  effect  on  the 
whole  life.  We  cannot  have  bitterness 
or  resentment  in  our  mind  without  its 
coloring  every  thought  and  affection. 
Hate  of  one  will  affect  our  attitude  to- 
ward all. 

If,  then,  we  possess  the  spirit  to  be  rec- 
onciled with  an  offended  or  an  offending 
brother,  there  are  some  things  which  may 
be  said  about  the  tactics  of  renewing  the 
broken  tie.  There  is  needed  a  certain 
tactful  considerateness.  In  all  such  ques- 
tions the  grace  of  the  act  depends  as 
much  on  the  manner  of  it,  as  on  the  act 
itself.  The  grace  of  the  fairest  act  may 
be  hurt  by  a  boorish  blemish  of  manner. 
Many  a  graceful  act  is  spoiled  by  a  grace- 
less touch,  as  a  generous  deed  can  be 
ruined  by  a  grudging  manner.  An  air 
of  condescension  will  destroy  the  value 
of  the  finest  charity.  There  is  a  forgive- 
178 


- 


j^-ss^l^kG*-^ 


■■JHlL^lLMTLMgJJOKLl^niMJWnn^ 

THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 

ifti  ma  im  <m  mi  MrwtLAujU8^ojttiua^iiMLni^jmL^xii^Ldw.iuHJM  mn.  as  a 

ness  which  is  no  forgiveness — formal, 
constrained,  from  the  teeth  and  lips  out- 
ward. It  does  not  come  as  the  warm 
breath  which  has  had  contact  with  the 
blood  of  the  heart.  The  highest  forgive- 
ness is  so  full  and  free,  that  it  is  forget- 
fulness.  It  is  complete  as  the  forgiveness 
of  God. 

If  there  is  something  in  the  method  of 
the  approach,  there  is  perhaps  more  in 
the  time  of  it.  It  ought  to  be  chosen 
carefully  and  considerately;  for  it  may  be 
that  the  other  has  not  been  prepared  for 
the  renewal  by  thought  and  feeling,  as 
the  man  who  makes  the  advances  has 
been.  No  hard  and  fast  rule  can  be  for- 
mulated when  dealing  with  such  a  com- 
plex and  varied  subject  as  man.  So  much 
depends  on  temper  and  character.  One 
man  taken  by  surprise  reveals  his  true 
feeling;  another,  when  taken  off  his 
guard,  is  irritated,  and  shuts  up  his  heart 
in  a  sort  of  instinctive  self-defence.  The 
thoughtfulness  of  love  will  suggest  the 
appropriate  means,  but  some  emphasis 
179 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


may  rightly  be  given  to  the  phrase  in 
Christ's  counsel,  "between  thee  and  him 
alone."  Let  there  be  an  opportunity  for 
a  frank  and  private  conversation.  To  ap- 
peal to  an  estranged  friend  before  wit- 
nesses induces  to  special  pleading,  making 
the  witnesses  the  jury,  asking  for  a  ver- 
dict on  either  side;  and  the  result  is  that 
both  are  still  convinced  they  have  right 
on  their  side,  and  that  they  have  been 
wronged. 

If  the  fault  of  the  estrangement  lies 
with  us,  the  burden  of  confession  should 
rest  upon  us  also.  To  go  to  him  with 
sincere  penitence  is  no  more  than  our 
duty.  Whether  the  result  be  successful 
or  not,  it  will  mean  a  blessing  for  our  own 
soul.  Humility  brings  its  own  reward; 
for  it  brings  God  into  the  life.  Even  if 
we  have  cause  to  suspect  that  the  offended 
brother  will  not  receive  us  kindly,  still 
such  reparation  as  we  can  make  is  at 
least  the  gate  to  reconciliation.  It  may 
be  too  late,  but  confession  will  lighten  the 
burden  on  our  own  heart.  Our  brother 
180 


may  be  so  offended  that  he  is  harder  to 
be  won  than  a  strong  city,  but  he  is  far 
more  worth  winning;  and  even  if  the 
effort  be  unsuccessful,  it  is  better  than 
the  cowardice  which  suffers  a  bloodless 
defeat. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  the  fault  was  not 
ours,  our  duty  is  still  clear.  It  should  be 
even  easier  to  take  the  initiative  in  such  a 
case;  for  after  all  it  is  much  easier  to  for- 
give than  to  submit  to  be  forgiven.  To 
some  natures  it  is  hard  to  be  laid  under 
an  obligation,  and  the  generosity  of  love 
must  be  shown  by  the  offended  brother. 
He  must  show  the  other  his  fault  gently 
and  generously,  not  parading  his  forgive- 
ness like  a  virtue,  but  as  if  the  favor  were 
on  his  side — as  it  is.  Christ  made  for- 
giveness the  test  of  spirituality.  If  we  do 
not  know  the  grace  of  forgiveness,  we 
do  not  know  how  gracious  life  may  be. 
The  highest  happiness  is  not  a  matter  of 
possessions  and  material  gains,  but  has 
its  source  in  a  heart  at  peace;  and  thus 
it  is  that  the  renewing  of  friendship  has  a 
181 


y 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


spiritual  result.  If  we  are  revengeful, 
censorious,  judging  others  harshly,  always 
putting  the  worst  construction  on  a  word 
or  an  act,  uncharitable,  unforgiving,  we 
certainly  cannot  claim  kinship  with  the 
spirit  of  the  Lord  jesus.  St.  Paul  made 
the  opposite  the  very  test  of  the  spiritual 
man:  "Brethren,  if  a  man  be  overtaken 
in  a  fault,  ye  which  are  spiritual  restore 
such  an  one  in  the  spirit  of  meekness." 

If  we  knew  all,  we  would  forgive  all. 
If  we  knew  all  the  facts,  the  things 
which  produced  the  petulance,  the  sore- 
ness which  caused  the  irritation,  we 
would  be  ready  to  pardon;  for  we 
would  understand  the  temptation.  If  we 
knew  all,  our  hearts  would  be  full  of 
pitiful  love  even  for  those  who  have 
wronged  us.  They  have  wronged  them- 
selves more  than  they  can  possibly  wrong 
us;  they  have  wounded  a  man  to  their 
own  hurt.  To  think  kindly  once  more 
of  a  separated  friend,  to  soften  the  heart 
toward  an  offending  brother,  will  bring 
the  blessing  of  the  Peace-maker,  the  bless- 
182 


n 


DSHIP 


ing  of  the  Reconciler.  The  way  to  be 
sure  of  acting  this  part  is  to  pray  for  him. 
We  cannot  remain  angry  with  another, 
when  we  pray  for  him.  Offence  departs, 
when  prayer  comes.  The  captivity  of 
Job  was  turned,  when  he  prayed  for  his 
friends. 

If  we  stubbornly  refuse  the  renewing 
of  friendship,  it  is  an  offence  against  re- 
ligion also.  Only  love  can  fulfill  the  law 
of  Christ.  His  is  the  Gospel  of  reconcili- 
ation, and  the  greater  reconciliation  in- 
cludes the  lesser.  The  friends  of  Christ 
must  be  friends  of  one  another.  That 
ought  to  be  accepted  as  an  axiom.  To 
be  reconciled  to  God  carries  with  it  at 
least  a  disposition  of  heart,  which  makes 
it  easy  to  be  reconciled  to  men  also. 
We  have  cause  to  suspect  our  religion, 
if  it  does  not  make  us  gentle,  and  for- 
bearing, and  forgiving;  if  the  love  of  our 
Lord  does  not  so  flood  our  hearts  as  to 
cleanse  them  of  all  bitterness,  and  spite, 
and  wrath.  If  a  man  is  nursing  anger, 
if  he  is  letting  his  mind  become  a  nest 
183 


VFEMdHiZi! 


of  foul  passions,  malice,  and  hatred,  and 
evil  wishing,  how  dwelleth  the  love  of 
God  in  him  ? 

If  we  cannot,  at  need,  even  humiliate 
ourselves  to  win  our  brother,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  see  where  our  religion  comes  in, 
especially  when  we  think  what  humilia- 
tion Christ  suffered,  that  He  might  recon- 
cile us  to  God,  and  make  us  friends  again 
with  our  heavenly  Father,  and  renew  our 
broken  love.  Whatever  be  our  faith  and 
works,  and  however  correct  be  our  creed 
and  conduct,  if  we  are  giving  place  to 
anger,  if  we  are  stiffening  ourselves  in 
strife  and  disdain,  we  are  none  of  His, 
who  was  meek  and  lowly  of  heart.  We 
may  come  to  the  Sanctuary  with  lips  full 
of  praises  and  eyes  full  of  prayers,  with 
devotion  in  our  hearts  and  gifts  in  our 
hand,  but  God  will  spurn  our  worship 
and  despise  our  gifts.  It  is  not  a  small 
matter,  this  renewing  of  friendship,  but 
is  the  root  of  religion  itself,  and  is  well 
made  the  very  test  of  spiritual-minded- 
ness.  "If  thou  bring  thy  gift  to  the 
184 


VYiPWIUVl-BVLmiMyniui^iME 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


altar,  r.nd  there  rememberest  that  thy 
brother  hath  aught  against  thee,  leave 
there  thy  gift  before  the  altar,  and  go 
thy  way ;  first  be  reconciled  to  thy  broth- 
er, and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift." 
Misunderstandings  and  estrangements 
will  arise,  occasions  will  come  when  it 
seems  as  if  not  even  love  and  forbear- 
ance can  avoid  a  quarrel,  but  surely 
Christ  has  died  in  vain  if  His  grace  can- 
not save  us  from  the  continuance  of 
strife. 

Such  renewing  of  love,  done  with  this 
high  motive,  will  indeed  bring  an  added 
joy,  as  the  poets  have  declared.  The 
very  pain  will  give  zest  to  the  pleasure. 
We  will  take  the  great  gift  of  friendship 
with  a  new  sense  of  its  beauty  and  sa- 
credness.  We  will  walk  more  softly  be- 
cause of  the  experience,  arid  more  than 
ever  will  tremble  lest  we  lose  it.  For 
days  after  the  reconciliation,  we  will  go 
about  with  the  feeling  that  the  benedic- 
tion of  the  peace-makers  rests  on  our 
head  and  clings  round  our  feet. 
185 


fl 


m 


, 


THE  RENEWING  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


But  more  than  any  personal  joy  from 
the  renewed  friendship,  we  will  have  the 
smile  of  God  on  our  life.  We  will  know 
that  we  have  done  what  is  well  pleasing 
in  His  sight.  Sweeter  than  the  peace 
which  comes  from  being  at  one  with 
men,  is  the  peace  which  comes  from 
being  at  one  with  God.  It  settles  on  the 
soul  like  the  mist  on  the  mountains,  en- 
veloping and  enswathing  it.  It  comes  to 
our  fevered  life  as  a  great  calm.  Over 
the  broken  waters  there  hovers  the  golden 
glory  of  God's  eternal  peace. 

And  more  even  than  all  that,  we  will 
have  gained  a  new  insight  into  the  love 
of  the  Father,  and  into  the  sacrifice  of  the 
Son.  We  will  understand  a  little  more 
of  the  mystery  of  the  Love  which  became 
poor,  which  gladly  went  into  the  wilder- 
ness to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost.  The 
cross  will  gain  new  and  rich  significance 
to  us,  and  all  the  world  will  be  an  arena 
in  which  is  enacted  the  spectacle  of  God's 
great  love.  The  world  is  bathed  in  the 
Jove  of  God,  as  it  is  flooded  by  the  blessed 
186 


HE  RENEW] 


sun.  If  we  are  in  the  light  and  walk  in 
love,  our  walk  will  be  with  God,  and  His 
gentleness  will  make  us  great.  There  is 
intended  an  ever  fuller  education  in  the 
meaning,  and  in  the  life  of  love,  until  the 
assurance  reaches  us  that  nothing  can 
separate  us  from  love.  Even  death, 
which  sunders  us  from  our  friends,  can- 
not permanently  divide  us.  In  the  great 
Home-coming  and  Reunion  of  hearts,  all 
the  veils  which  obscure  feeling  will  be 
torn  down,  and  we  shall  know  each  other 
better,  and  shall  love  each  other  better. 

But  every  opportunity  carries  a  penalty; 
every  privilege  brings  with  it  a  warning. 
If  we  will  not  live  the  life  of  love,  if  we 
harden  our  heart  against  a  brother  of- 
fended, we  will  find  in  our  need  even  the 
great  and  infinite  love  of  God  shut  against 
us,  harder  to  be  won  than  a  strong  city, 
ribbed  and  stockaded  as  the  bars  of  a  cas- 
tle. To  the  unforgiving  there  is  no  for- 
giveness. To  the  hard,  and  relentless, 
and  loveless,  there  is  no  love.  To  the 
selfish,  there  is  no  heaven. 
187 


"//  thy  brother,  the  son  of  thy  mother,  or  thy  son, 
Or  thy  daughter,  or  the  wife  of  thy  bosom,  or  thy  friend 
which  is  as  thine  own  soul,  entice  thee  secretly,  saying, 
Let  us  go  and  serve  other  gods,  thou  shalt  not  consent 
unto  him,  nor  hearken  unto  him,  but  thine  hand  shall 
be  first  upon  him  to  put  him  to  death,  and  afterward 
the  hand  of  all  the  people ;  because  be  has  sought  to 
thrust  thee  away  from  the  Lord  thy  God." 

Deuteronomy. 

Yet  each  will  have  one  anguish — his  own  soul, 
Which  perishes  of  cold" 

Matthew  Arnold. 


I  _ __  a.„.„_  _  # 


■■■■■■■ 


THE  LIMITS 

OF    FRIENDSHIP 


RIENDSHIP,  at  its  very  best  ancT 
purest,  has  limits.     At  its  begin- 
ning, it  seems  to  have  no  condi 
tions,  and  to  be  capable  of  end- 


less development.  In  the  first  flush  of 
newborn  love  it  seems  almost  an  insult 
to  question  its  absolute  power  to  meet 
every  demand  made  upon  it.  The  ex- 
quisite joy  of  understanding,  and  being 
understood,  is  too  keen  to  let  us  believe, 
that  there  may  be  a  terminal  line,  beyond 
which  we  may  not  pass.  Friendship 
comes  as  a  mystery,  formless,  undefined, 
without  set  bounds ;  and  it  is  often  a  sore 
experience  to  discover  that  it  is  circum- 
scribed, and  limited  like  everything  hu- 
191 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


P 


man.  At  first  to  speak  of  it  as  having 
qualifications  was  a  profanation,  and  to 
find  them  out  came  as  a  disillusionment 

Yet  the  discovery  is  not  all  a  loss.  The 
limitless  is  also  the  vague,  and  it  is  well 
to  know  the  exact  terms  implied  in  a  re- 
lationship. Of  course  we  learn  through 
experience  the  restrictions  on  all  intimacy, 
and  if  we  are  wise  we  learn  to  keep  well 
within  the  margin;  but  many  a  disap- 
pointment might  have  been  saved,  if  we 
had  understood  the  inherent  limitations  of 
the  subject.  These  are  the  result  of  per- 
sonality. Each  partner  is  after  all  a  dis- 
tinct individual,  with  will,  and  conscience, 
and  life  apart,  with  a  personal  responsi- 
bility which  none  can  take  from  him,  and 
with  an  individual  bias  of  mind  and  heart 
which  can  never  be  left  out  of  account. 

As  is  to  be  expected,  some  of  the  lim- 
its of  friendship  are  not  essential  to  the 
relation,  but  are  due  to  a  defect  in  the  re- 
lation, perhaps  an  idiosyncrasy  of  char- 
acter or  a  peculiarity  of  temper.  Some 
of  the  limits  are  self-imposed,  and  arise 
192 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


from  mistake  of  folly.  A  friend  may  be 
too  exacting,  and  may  make  excessive 
demands,  which  strain  the  bond  to  the 
breaking  point.  There  is  often  a  good 
deal  of  selfishness  in  the  affection,  which 
asks  for  absorption,  and  is  jealous  of  other 
interests.  Jealousy  is  usually  the  fruit,  ircr 
not  of  love,  but  of  self-love.  Life  is  big- 
ger than  any  relationship,  and  covers 
more  ground.  The  circles  of  life  may  in- 
tersect, and  part  of  each  be  common  to 
the  other,  but  there  will  be  an  area  on 
both  sides  exclusive  to  each;  and  even  if 
it  were  possible  for  the  circles  to  be  con- 
centric, it  could  hardly  be  that  the  circum- 
ference of  the  two  could  be  the  same; 
one  would  be,  almost  without  a  doubt, 
of  larger  radius  than  the  other.  It  is  not 
identity  which  is  the  aim  and  the  glory 
of  friendship,  but  unity  in  the  midst  of 
difference.  To  strive  at  identity  is  to  be 
certain  of  failure,  and  it  deserves  failure; 
for  it  is  the  outcome  of  selfishness.  A 
man's  friend  is  not  his  property,  to  be  .1 
claimed  as  his  exclusive  possession. 
193 


■ 
THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


33^^H 


■ 


/ 


Jealousy  is  an  ignoble  vice,  because  it  has 
its  roots  in  egotism.  It  also  destroys  af- 
fection, since  it  is  an  evidence  of  want  of 
trust,  and  trust  is  essential  to  friendship. 
There  are  physical  limits  to  friendship, 
if  nothing  else.  There  are  material  bar- 
riers to  be  surmounted,  before  human 
beings  really  get  into  touch  with  each 
other,  even  in  the  slightest  degree.  The 
bodily  organs,  through  which  alone  we 
can  enter  into  communication,  carry  with 
them  their  own  disabilities.  The  senses 
are  at  the  best  limited  in  their  range,  and 
are  ever  exposed  to  error.  Flesh  stands 
in  the  way  of  a  complete  revelation  of 
soul.  Human  feet  cannot  enter  past  the 
threshold  of  the  soul's  abode.  The  very 
means  of  self-revelation  is  a  self-conceal- 
ment. The  medium,  by  which  alone  we 
know,  darkens,  if  it  does  not  distort,  the 
object.  Words  obscure  thought,  by  the 
very  process  through  which  alone  thought 
is  possible  for  us;  and  the  fleshly  wrap- 
pings of  the  soul  hide  it,  at  the  same  time 
that  they  make  it  visible. 


194 


k^NSL.  I  JU-^S 


mm 


afe«aga^IS^^5feA 


T 


And  if  there  are  physical  limits  to 
friendship,  there  are  greater  mental  limits. 
The  needs  of  living  press  on  us,  and 
drive  us  into  different  currents  of  action. 
Our  varied  experience  colors  all  our 
thought,  and  gives  a  special  bias  to  our 
mind.  There  is  a  personal  equation 
which  must  always  be  taken  into  ac- 
count. This  is  the  charm  of  intercourse, 
but  it  is  also  a  limitation.  We  do  not 
travel  over  the  same  ground;  we  meet, 
but  we  also  part.  However  great  the 
sympathy,  it  is  not  possible  completely 
to  enter  into  another  man's  mind,  and 
look  at  a  subject  with  his  eyes.  Much  of 
our  impatience  with  each  other,  and  most 
of  our  misunderstandings,  are  caused  by 
this  natural  limitation.  The  lines  along 
which  our  minds  travel  can  at  the  best  be 
asymptotic,  approaching  each  other  in- 
definitely near,  but  never  quite  coinciding. 

The  greatest  limit  of  friendship,  of 
which  these  other  are  but  indications,  is 
the  spiritual  fact  of  the  separate  person- 
ality of  each  human  being.  This  is  seen 
195 


WM 


w 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


MM 
W 


mi 


It 


most  absolutely  in  the  sphere  of  morals. 
The  ultimate  standard  for  a  man  is  his 
own  individual  conscience,  and  neithei 
the  constraint  of  affection,  nor  the  au- 
thority of  numbers,  can  atone  for  false- 
ness there.  One  of  the  most  forceful 
illustrations  of  this  final  position  of  all 
religion  is  to  be  found  in  the  passage  of 
terrific  intensity  from  the  Book  of  Deu- 
teronomy, which  we  have  transcribed  as 
a  preface  to  this  chapter.  The  form  of 
the  passage  of  course  gets  its  coloring 
from  the  needs  of  the  time  and  the  tem- 
per of  the  age.  The  Book  of  Deuteron- 
omy is  so  sure  that  the  law  of  God  is 
necessary  for  the  life  of  Israel,  and  that 
departure  from  it  will  mean  national 
ruin,  that  it  will  shrink  from  nothing 
needed  to  preserve  the  truth.  Its  warn- 
ings against  being  led  away  to  idolatry 
are  very  instant  and  solemn.  Every  pre- 
caution must  be  taken;  nothing  must 
be  allowed  to  seduce  them  from  their  al- 
legiance, not  the  most  sacred  ties,  nor 
the  most  solemn  authority*    No  measure 

i96 

~i2«B!EmM2EZ  liTfl'EEElMSSK;-  CREEKS 


wfspm 


WW 


ray 


of  repression  can  be  too  stern.  In  that 
fierce  time  it  was  natural  that  apostasy 
should  be  thought  worthy  of  death ;  for 
apostasy  from  religion  meant  also  treason 
to  the  nation:  much  more  those  who 
used  their  influence  to  seduce  men  to 
apostasy  were  to  be  condemned.  The 
passage  is  introduced  by  the  assertion 
that  if  even  a  prophet,  a  recognized  serv- 
ant of  God,  attesting  his  prophecy  with 
signs  and  wonders,  should  solicit  them  to 
leave  the  worship  of  Jehovah,  in  spite  of 
his  sacred  character,  and  in  spite  of  the 
seeming  evidence  of  miracles,  they  must 
turn  from  him  with  loathing,  and  his 
doom  should  be  death.  And  if  the  apos- 
tasy should  have  the  weight  of  numbers 
and  a  whole  city  go  astray,  the  same 
doom  is  theirs.  If  the  tenderest  relation- 
ship should  tempt  the  soul  away,  if  a 
brother,  or  son,  or  daughter,  or  wife,  or 
friend,  should  entice  to  apostasy,  the 
same  relentless  judgment  must  be  meted 
out. 
The  fact  that  this  stern  treatment  is 
197 


*^ 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


advocated  in  this  Book,  which  is  full  of 
the  most  tender  consideration  for  all 
weak  things,  shows  the  need  of  the  time 
Deuteronomy  has  some  of  the  most 
beautiful  legislation  in  favor  of  slaves 
and  little  children  and  birds  and  domes- 
tic animals,  some  of  it  in  advance  of  even 
our  modern  customs  and  practices,  per- 
meated as  these  are  by  Christian  senti- 
ment. And  it  is  in  this  finely  sensitive 
Book  that  we  find  such  strong  assertion 
of  the  paramount  importance  of  individ- 
ual responsibility. 

The  influence  of  a  friend  or  near  rela- 
tive is  bound  to  be  great.  We  are  af- 
fected on  every  side,  and  at  every  mo- 
ment, by  the  environment  of  other  lives. 
There  is  a  spiritual  affinity,  which  is  the 
closest  and  most  powerful  thing  in  the 
world,  and  yet  in  the  realm  of  morals  it 
has  definite  limits  set  to  it.  At  the  best 
it  can  only  go  a  certain  length,  and  ought 
not  to  be  allowed  to  go  further  than  its 
legitimate  bounds.  The  writer  of  Deu- 
teronomy appreciated  to  the  full  the 
198 


power  and  attraction  of  the  near  human 
relationships.  We  see  this  from  the 
way  he  describes  them,  adding  an  ad- 
ditional touch  of  fondness  to  each,  "thy 
brother  the  son  of  thy  mother,  the  wife 
of  thy  bosom,  thy  friend  who  is  as 
thine  own  soul."  But  it  sets  a  limit  to 
the  place  even  such  tender  ties  should 
be  allowed  to  have.  The  most  intimate 
of  relatives,  the  most  trusted  of  friends, 
must  not  be  permitted  to  abrogate  the 
place  of  conscience.  Affection  may  be 
perverted  into  an  instrument  of  evil. 
There  is  a  higher  moral  law  than  even 
the  law  of  friendship.  The  demands 
of  friendship  must  not  be  allowed  to 
interfere  with  the  dictates  of  duty.  It 
is  not  that  the  moral  law  should  be 
blindly  obeyed,  but  because  in  obey- 
ing it  we  are  choosing  the  better  part 
for  both;  for  as  Frederick  Robertson 
truly  says,  "the  man  who  prefers  his 
dearest  friend  to  the  call  of  duty,  will 
soon  show  that  he  prefers  himself  to  his 
dearest  friend."  Such  weak  giving  in  to 
199 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


the  supposed  higher  demand  of  friend- 
ship is  only  a  form  of  selfishness. 

Friendship  is  sometimes  too  exacting. 
It  asks  for  too  much,  more  than  we  have 
to  give,  more  than  we  ever  ought  to  give. 
There  is  a  tyranny  of  love,  making  de- 
mands which  can  only  be  granted  to  the 
loss  of  both.  Such  tyranny  is  a  perver- 
sion of  the  nature  of  love,  which  is  to 
serve,  not  to  rule.  It  would  override 
conscience,  and  break  down  the  will. 
We  cannot  give  up  our  personal  duty,  as 
we  cannot  give  up  our  personal  respon- 
sibility. That  is  how  it  is  possible  for 
Christ  to  say  that  if  a  man  love  father,  or 
mother,  or  wife  more  than  Him,  he  is 
not  worthy  of  Him.  No  human  being 
can  take  the  place  of  God  to  another  life; 
it  is  an  acted  blasphemy  to  attempt  it. 

There  is  a  love  which  is  evil  in  its  self- 
ishness. Its  very  exclusive  claim  is  a 
sign  of  its  evil  root.  The  rights  of  the 
individual  must  not  be  renounced,  even 
for  love's  sake.  Human  love  can  ask  too 
much,  and  it  asks  too  much  when  it 
200 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


would  break  down  the  individual  will 
and  conscience. 


"  The  hands  that  love  us  often  are  the  hands 
That  softly  close  our  eyes  and  draw  us  earthward. 
We  give  them  all  the  largesse  of  our  life — 
Not  this,  not  all  the  world,  contenteth  them, 
Till  we  renounce  our  rights  as  living  souls." 

We  cannot  renounce  our  rights  as  living 
souls  without  losing  our  souls.  No  man 
can  pay  the  debt  of  life  for  us.  No  man 
can  take  the  burden  of  life  from  us.  To 
no  man  can  we  hand  over  the  reins  un- 
reservedly. It  would  be  cowardice,  and 
cowardice  is  sin.  The  first  axiom  of  the 
spiritual  life  is  the  sacredness  of  the  in- 
dividuality of  each.  We  must  respect 
each  other's  personality.  Even  when  we 
have  rights  over  other  people,  these  rights 
are  strictly  limited,  and  carry  with  them 
a  corresponding  duty  to  respect  their 
rights  also.  The  one  intolerable  despot- 
ism in  the  world  is  the  attempt  to  put  a 
yoke  on  the  souls  of  men,  and  there  are 
some  forms  of  intimacy  which  approach 
that  despotism.  To  transgress  the  moral 
201 


WW   Y   /( 


trnmytipm 


bounds  set  to  friendship  is  to  make  the 
highest  forms  of  friendship  impossible; 
for  these  are  only  reached  when  free 
spirits  meet  in  the  unity  of  the  spirit. 

The  community  of  human  life,  of 
which  we  are  learning  much  to-day,  is  a 
great  fact.  We  are  all  bound  up  in  the 
same  bundle.  In  a  very  true  sense  we 
stand  or  fall  together.  We  are  ever  on 
our  trial  as  a  society;  not  only  materially, 
but  even  in  the  highest  things,  morally 
and  spiritually.  There  is  a  social  con- 
science, which  we  affect,  and  which  con- 
stantly affects  us.  We  cannot  rise  very 
much  above  it;  to  fall  much  below  it,  is 
for  all  true  purposes  to  cease  to  live.  We 
have  recognized  social  standards  which 
test  morality;  we  have  common  ties, 
common  duties,  common  responsibilities. 

But  with  it  all,  in  spite  of  the  fact  of 
the  community  of  human  life,  there  is 
the  other  fact  of  the  singleness  of  human 
life.  We  have  a  life,  which  we  must 
live  alone.  We  can  never  get  past  the 
ultimate  fact  of  the  personal   responsi- 

202 


AJ\U>IWiU^\WlWUU)llim^UU>tl*ljU^^ 


UNIVERSITY 


m  ttiauju_fc^iiiin.uj<Lmwoitt'JUttiMttJU<Liiw^it*iuju^iii^ 

THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


bility  of  each.  We  may  be  leaves  from 
the  same  tree  of  life,  but  no  two  leaves 
are  alike.  We  may  be  wrapped  up  in 
the  same  bundle,  but  one  bundle  can 
contain  very  different  things.  Each  of 
us  is  colored  with  his  own  shade,  sepa- 
rate and  peculiar.  We  have  our  own 
special  powers  of  intellect,  our  own 
special  experience,  our  own  moral  con- 
science, our  own  moral  life  to  live.  So, 
while  it  is  true  that  we  stand  or  fall  to- 
gether, it  is  also  true — and  it  is  a  deeper 
truth — that  we  stand  or  fall  alone. 

In  this  crowded  world,  with  its  inter- 
course and  jostling,  with  its  network  of 
relationships,  with  its  mingled  web  of  life, 
we  are  each  alone.  Below  the  surface 
there  is  a  deep,  and  below  the  deep  there 
is  a  deeper  depth.  In  the  depth  of  the 
human  heart  there  is,  and  there  must  be, 
solitude.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  possible 
communion  with  another.  We  never 
completely  open  up  our  nature  to  even 
our  nearest  and  dearest.  In  spite  of  our- 
selves something  is  kept  back.  Not  that 
203 


>A?/I 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


we  are  untrue  in  this,  and  hide  our  inner 
self,  but  simply  that  we  are  unable  to  re- 
veal ourselves  entirely.  There  is  a  bitter 
ness  of  the  heart  which  only  the  heart 
knoweth;  there  is  a  joy  of  the  heart  with 
which  no  stranger  can  intermeddle;  there 
is  a  bound  beyond  which  even  a  friend 
who  is  as  our  own  soul  becomes  a  stran- 
ger. There  is  a  Holy  of  Holies,  over  the 
threshold  of  which  no  human  feet  can 
pass.  It  is  safe  from  trespass,  guarded 
from  intrusion,  and  even  we  cannot  give 
to  another  the  magic  key  to  open  the 
door.  In  spite  of  all  the  complexity  of 
our  social  life,  and  the  endless  connec- 
tions we  form  with  others,  there  is  as 
the  ultimate  fact  a^greatand  almost  weird 
solitude.  We  may  fill  up  our  hearts  with 
human  fellowship  in  all  its  grades,  yet 
there  remains  to  each  a  distinct  and  sep- 
arated life. 

We  speak  vaguely  of  the  mass  of  men, 
but  the  mass  consists  of  units,  each  with 
his  own  life,  a  thing  apart.    The  com- 
munity of  human  life  is  being  emphasized 
204 


mmmmm 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


to-day,  and  it  is  a  lesson  which  bears  and 
needs  repetition,  the  lesson  of  our  com- 
mon ties  and  common  duties.  But  at  the 
same  time  we  dare  not  lose  sight  of  the 
fact  of  the  singleness  of  human  life,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  that,  otherwise  we 
have  no  moral  appeal  to  make  on  behalf 
of  those  ties  and  duties.  In  the  region  of 
morals,  in  dealing  with  sin,  we  see  how 
true  this  solitude  is.  There  may  be  what 
we  can  truly  call  social  and  national  sins, 
and  men  can  sin  together,  but  in  its  ulti- 
mate issue  sin  is  individual.  It  is  a  dis- 
integrating thing,  separating  a  man  from 
his  fellows,  and  separating  him  from 
God.  We  are  alone  with  our  sin,  like 
the  Ancient  Mariner  with  the  bodies  of 
his  messmates  around  him,  each  cursing 
him  with  his  eye.  In  the  last  issue,  there 
is  nothing  in  the  universe  but  God  and 
the  single  human  soul.  Men  can  share 
the  sinning  with  us;  no  man  can  share 
the  sin.  "  And  the  sin  ye  do  by  two  and 
two,  ye  must  pay  for  one  by  one." 
Therefore  in  this  sphere  of  morals  there 
205 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


must  be  limits  to  friendship,  even  with 
the  friend  who  is  as  our  own  soul. 

Friendship  is  a  very  real  and  close 
thing.  It  is  one  of  the  greatest  joys  in 
life,  and  has  noble  fruits.  We  can  do 
much  for  each  other:  there  are  burdens 
we  can  share:  we  can  rejoice  with  those 
who  do  rejoice,  and  weep  with  those 
who  weep.  Through  sympathy  and  love 
we  are  able  to  get  out  of  self;  and  vet 
even  here  there  are  limits.  Our  helpless- 
ness in  the  presence  of  grief  proves  this 
fundamental  singleness  of  human  life. 
When  we  stand  beside  a  friend  before 
the  open  grave,  under  the  cloud  of  a  great 
sorrow,  we  learn  how  little  we  can  do 
for  him.  We  can  only  stand  speechless, 
and  pray  that  the  great  Comforter  may 
come  with  His  own  divine  tenderness, 
and  enter  the  sanctuary  of  sorrow  shut  to 
feet  of  flesh.  Mourners  have  indeed  been 
soothed  by  a  touch,  or  a  look,  or  a  prayer, 
which  had  their  source  in  a  pitiful  human 
heart,  but  it  is  only  as  a  message  of  con- 
dolence flashed  from  one  world  to  another. 
206 


mmimmmmmmmmm 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


There  is  a  burden  which  every  man  must 
bear,  and  none  can  bear  for  him ;  for  there 
is  a  personality  which,  even  if  we  would, 
we  cannot  unveil  to  human  eyes.  There 
are  feelings  sacred  to  the  man  wno  feels. 
We  have  to  "  dree  our  own  weird,"  and 
live  our  own  life,  and  die  our  own  death. 
In  the  time  of  desolation,  when  the 
truth  of  this  solitude  is  borne  in  on  us, 
we  are  left  to  ourselves,  not  because  our 
friends  are  unfeeling,  but  simply  because 
they  are  unable.  It  is  not  their  selfish- 
ness which  keeps  them  off,  but  just  their 
frailty.  Their  spirit  may  be  willing,  but 
the  flesh  is  weak.  It  is  the  lesson  of  life, 
that  there  is  no  stay  in  the  arm  of  flesh, 
that  even  if  there  is  no  limit  to  human 
love,  there  is  a  limit  to  human  power. 
Sooner  or  later,  somewhere  or  other,  it  is 
the  experience  of  every  son  of  man,  as  it 
was  the  experience  of  the  Son  of  Man, 
"Behold  the  hour  cometh,  and  now  is 
come,  that  ye  My  friends  shall  be  scat- 
tered every  man  to  his  own,  and  shall 
leave  Me  alone." 

207 


~  ■  .?■' 


Human  friendship  must  have  limits, 
just  because  it  is  human.  It  is  subject  to 
loss,  and  is  often  to  some  extent  the 
sport  of  occasion.  It  lacks  permanence: 
misunderstandings  can  estrange  us :  slan- 
der can  embitter  us:  death  can  bereave 
us.  We  are  left  very  much  the  victims  of 
circumstances ;  for  like  everything  earthly 
it  is  open  to  change  and  decay.  No  mat- 
ter how  close  and  spiritual  the  inter- 
course, it  is  not  permanent,  and  never 
certain.  If  nothing  else,  the  shadow  of 
death  is  always  on  it.  Tennyson  de- 
scribes how  he  dreamed  that  he  and  his 
friend  should  pass  through  the  world  to- 
gether, loving  and  trusting  each  other, 
and  together  pass  out  into  the  silence. 

*'  Arrive  at  last  the  blessed  goal, 
And  He  that  died  in  Holy  Land 
Would  reach  us  out  the  shining  hand. 
And  take  us  as  a  single  soul." 

It  was  a  dream  at  the  best.  Neither  to 
live  together  nor  to  die  together  could 
blot  out  the  spiritual  limits  of  friendship. 
Even  in  the  closest  of  human  relations. 
208 


«&*3S*£ 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


when  two  take  each  other  for  better  for 
worse,  for  richer  for  poorer,  in  sickness 
and  in  health,  they  may  be  made  one 
flesh,  but  never  one  soul.  Singleness  i 
the  ultimate  fact  of  human  life.  "The 
race  is  run  by  one  and  one,  and  never  by 
two  and  two." 

In  religion,  in  the  deepest  things  of  the 
spirit,  these  limits  we  have  been  consid- 
ering are  perhaps  felt  most  of  all.  With 
even  a  friend  who  is  as  one's  own  soul, 
we  cannot  seek  to  make  a  spiritual  im- 
pression, without  realizing  the  constraint 
of  his  separate  individuality.  We  cannot 
break  through  the  barriers  of  another's 
distinct  existence.  If  we  have  ever  sought 
to  lead  to  a  higher  life  another  whom  we 
love,  we  must  have  been  made  to  feel 
that  it  does  not  all  rest  with  us,  that  he 
is  a  free  moral  being,  and  that  only  by 
voluntarily  yielding  his  heart  and  will  and 
life  to  the  King,  can  he  enter  the  King- 
dom. We  are  forced  to  respect  his  per- 
sonality. We  may  watch  and  pray  and 
speak,  but  we  cannot  save.  There  is 
209 


IT 


i':;:: 


THE  LIMITS  OF  FRIENDSHIP 


almost  a  sort  of  spiritual  indecency  in  un- 
veiling the  naked  soul,  in  attempting  to 
invade  the  personality  of  another  life. 
There  is  sometimes  a  spiritual  vivisection 
which  some  attempt  in  the  name  of  re- 
ligion, which  is  immoral.  Only  holier 
eyes  than  ours,  only  more  reverent  hands 
than  ours,  can  deai  with  the  spirit  of  a 
man.  He  is  a  separate  individual,  with 
all  the  rights  of  an  individual.  We  may 
have  many  points  of  contact  with  him, 
the  contact  of  mind  on  mind,  and  heart 
on  heart;  we  may  even  have  rights  over 
him,  the  rights  of  love;  but  he  can  at  will 
insulate  his  life  from  ours.  Here  also,  as 
elsewhere  when  we  go  deep  enough  into 
life,  it  is  God  and  the  single  human  soul. 
The  lesson  of  all  true  living  in  every 
sphere  is  to  learn  our  own  limitations.  It 
is  the  first  lesson  in  art,  to  work  within 
the  essential  limitations  of  the  particular 
art.  But  in  dealing  with  other  lives  it  is 
perhaps  the  hardest  of  all  lessons,  to 
learn,  and  submit  to,  our  limitations.  It 
is  the  crowning  grace  of  faith,  when  we 
210 


imrig)  vLfiHJWMU>UL7WW  uvuvlmuhjuml.  JViMJMJif.  QaiJ/HLiruu 


T 


ire  willing  to  submit,  and  to  leave  those 
we  love  in  the  hands  of  God,  as  we  leave 
ourselves.  Nowhere  else  is  the  limit  of 
friendship  so  deeply  cut  as  here  in  the 
things  of  the  spirit 

"  No  man  can  save  his  brother's  soul. 
Nor  pay  his  brother's  debt" 

Human  friendship  has  limits  because 
of  the  real  greatness  of  man.  We  are 
too  big  to  be  quite  comprehended  by  an- 
other. There  is  always  something  in  us 
left  unexplained,  and  unexplored.  We 
do  not  even  know  ourselves,  much  less 
can  another  hope  to  probe  into  the  re- 
cesses of  our  being.  Friendship  has  a 
limit,  because  of  the  infinite  element  in 
the  soul.  It  is  hard  to  kick  against  the 
pricks,  but  they  are  meant  to  drive  us  to- 
ward the  true  end  of  living.  It  is  hard 
to  be  brought  up  by  a  limit  along  any 
line  of  life,  but  it  is  designed  to  send  us  to 
a  deeper  and  richer  development  of  our 
life.  Man's  limitation  is  God's  occasion. 
Only  God  can  fully  satisfy  the  hungry 
heart  of  man. 

311 


THE  HIGHER 

FRIENDSHIP 


IFE  is  an  education  in  love.  There 
are  grades  and  steps  in  it,  occa- 
sions of  varying  opportunity  for 
the  discipline  of  love.  It  comes 
to  us  at  many  points,  trying  us  at  differ- 
ent levels,  that  it  may  get  entrance  some- 
how, and  so  make  our  lives  not  alto- 
gether a  failure.  When  we  give  up  our 
selfishness  and  isolation,  even  in  the  most 
rudimentary  degree,  a  beginning  is  made 
with  us  that  is  designed  to  carry  us  far, 
if  we  but  follow  the  leading  of  our  hearts. 
There  is  an  ideal  toward  which  all  our 
experience  points.  If  it  were  not  so, 
life  would  be  a  hopeless  enigma,  and  the 
world  a  meaningless  farce.  There  must 
215 


^ 


be  a  spiritual  function  intended,  a  design 
to  build  up  strong  and  true  moral  char- 
acter, to  develop  sweet  and  holy  life, 
otherwise  history  is  a  despair,  and  ex- 
perience a  hopeless  riddle.  All  truly  great 
human  life  has  been  lived  with  a  spiritual 
outlook,  and  on  a  high  level.  Men  have 
felt  instinctively  that  there  is  no  justifica- 
tion for  all  the  pain,  and  strife,  and  fail- 
ure, and  sorrow  of  the  world,  if  these  do 
not  serve  a  higher  purpose  than  mere 
existence.  Even  our  tenderest  relation- 
ships need  some  more  authoritative  war- 
rant than  is  to  be  found  in  themselves, 
even  in  the  joy  and  hope  they  bring. 
That  joy  cannot  be  meant  as  an  empty 
lure  to  keep  life  on  the  earth. 

And  spiritual  man  has  also  discovered 
that  the  very  breakdown  of  human  ties 
leads  out  to  a  larger  and  more  permanent 
love.  It  is  sooner  or  later  found  that  the- 
most  perfect  love  cannot  utterly  satisfy 
the  heart  of  man.  All  our  human  inter- 
course, blessed  and  helpful  as  it  may  be, 
must  be  necessarily  fragmentary  and 
216 


partial.  A  man  must  discover  that  there  - 
is  an  infinite  in  him,  which  only  the  infi- 
nite can  match  and  suppiy.  It  is  no  dis- 
paragement of  human  friendship  to  admit 
.his.  It  remains  a  blessed  fact  that  it  is 
possible  to  meet  devotion,  which  makes 
us  both  humble  and  proud;  humble  at 
the  sight  of  its  noble  sacrifice,  proud  with 
a  glad  pride  at  its  wondrous  beauty. 
Man  is  capable  of  the  highest  heights  of 
love.  But  man  can  never  take  the  place 
of  God,  and  without  God  life  is  shorn  of 
its  glory  and  divested  of  its  meaning. 

So  the  human  heart  has  ever  craved  for 
a  relationship,  deeper  and  more  lasting 
than  any  possible  among  men,  undis- 
turbed by  change,  unmenaced  by  death, 
unbroken  by  fear,  unclouded  by  doubt. 
The  limitations  and  losses  of  earthly  — 
friendship  are  meant  to  drive  us  to  the 
higher  friendship.  Life  is  an  education - 
in  love,  but  the  education  is  not  com- 
plete till  we  learn  the  love  of  the  eternal. 
Ordinary  friendship  has  done  its  work 
when  the  limits  of  friendship  are  reached, 
217 


when  through  the  discipline  of  love  we 
are  led  into  a  larger  love,  when  a  door  is 
opened  out  to  a  higher  life.  The  sick- 
ness of  heart  which  is  the  lot  of  all,  the 
loneliness  which  not  even  the  voice  of  a 
friend  can  dispel,  the  grief  which  seems 
to  stop  the  pulse  of  life  itself,  find  their 
final  meaning  in  this  compulsion  toward 
the  divine.  We  are  sometimes  driven  out 
not  knowing  whither  we  go,  not  know- 
ing the  purpose  of  it ;  only  knowing 
through  sheer  necessity  that  here  we  have 
no  abiding  city,  or  home,  or  life,  or  love; 
and  seeking  a  city,  a  home,  a  life,  a  love, 
that  hath  foundations. 

We  have  some  training  in  the  love  of 
friends,  as  if  only  to  prove  to  us  that 
without  love  we  cannot  live.  All  our 
intimacies  are  but  broken  lights  of  the 
love  of  God.  They  are  methods  of 
preparation  for  the  great  communion. 
In  so  far  even  that  our  earthly  friendships 
are  helps  to  life,  it  is  because  they  are 
shot  through  with  the  spiritual,  and  tfiey— - 


prepare  us  by  their  very  deficiencies  fo» 
218 


7 


something  more  permanent.  There  have 
been  implanted  in  man  an  instinct,  and  a 
need,  which  make  him  discontented,  till 
he  find  content  in  God.  If  at  any  time 
we  are  forced  to  cease  from  man,  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils,  it  is  that  we  may 
reach  out  to  the  infinite  Father,  unchang- 
ing, the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for- 
ever. This  is  the  clamant,  imperious  need 
of  man. 

The  solitude  of  life  in  its  ultimate  issue 
is  because  we  were  made  for  a  higher 
companionship.  It  is  just  in  the  inner- 
most sanctuary,  shut  to  every  other  visit- 
ant, that  God  meets  us.  We  are  driven 
to  God  by  the  needs  of  the  heart.  If  the 
existence  of  God  was  due  to  a  purely  in- 
tellectual necessity;  if  we  believed  in  Him  x 
only  because  our  reason  gave  warrant  for 
the  faith;  it  would  not  matter  much 
whether  He  really  is,  and  whether  we 
really  can  know  Him.  But  when  the 
instincts  of  our  nature,  and  the  necessi- 
ties of  the  heart-life  demand  God,  we 
are  forced  to  believe.  In  moments  of 
219 


\mAm^m!mm 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


deep  feeling,  when  all  pretence  is  si 
lenced,  a  man  may  be  still  able  to  ques- 
tion the  existence  of  God,  but  he  does 
not  question  his  own  need  of  God.  Man, 
to  remain  man,  must  believe  in  the  pos- 
sibility of  this  relationship  with  the  divine. 
There  is  a  love  which  passeth  the  love  of- 
women,  passeth  the  love  of  comrades, 
passeth  all  earthly  love,  the  love  of  God 
to  the  weary,  starved  heart  of  man. 

To  believe  in  this  great  fact  does  not 
detract  from  human  friendship,  but  really 
gives  it  worth  and  glory.  It  is  because 
of  this,  that  all  love  has  a  place  in  the  life 
of  man.  All  our  worships,  and  friend- 
ships, and  loves,  come  from  God,  and 
are  but  reflections  of  the  divine  tender- 
ness. All  that  is  beautiful,  and  lovely 
and  pure,  and  of  good  repute,  finds  its 
appropriate  setting  in  God;  for  it  was 
made  by  God.  He  made  it  for  Himself. 
He  made  man  with  instincts,  and  aspira- 
tions, and  heart-hunger,  and  divine  un- 
rest, that  He  might  give  them  full  satis- 
faction in  Himself.  He  claims  every- 
220 


WSa  ffi  S3  3 

yjmm 

I 


thing,  but  He  gives  everything.  Our 
human  relationships  are  sanctified  and 
glorified  by  the  spiritual  union.  He  gives 
us  back  our  kinships,  and  friendships, 
with  a  new  light  on  them,  an  added 
tenderness,  transfiguring  our  common 
ties  and  intimacies,  flooding  them  with 
a  supernal  joy.  We  part  from  men  to 
meet  with  God,  that  we  may  be  able  to 
meet  men  again  on  a  higher  platform. 
But  the  love  of  God  is  the  end  and  de- 
sign of  all  other  loves.  If  the  flowers 
and  leaves  fade,  it  is  that  the  time  of  ripe 
fruit  is  at  hand.  If  these  adornments  are 
taken  from  the  tree  of  life,  it  is  to  make 
room  for  the  supreme  fruitage.  Without 
the  love  of  God  all  other  love  would  be 
but  deception,  luring  men  on  to  the  awful 
disillusionment.  We  were  born  for  the 
love  of  God;  if  we  do  not  find  it,  it  were  — 
better  for  us  if  we  had  never  been  born. 
We  may  have  tasted  of  all  the  joys  the 
world  can  offer,  have  known  success  and 
the  gains  of  success,  been  blessed  with 
the  sweetest  friendships  and  the  fiercest 
221 


Mi 


M 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


B 


loves;  but  if  we  have  not  found  this  the 
chief  end  of  life,  we  have  missed  our 
chance,  and  can  only  have  at  the  last  a 
desolated  life. 

But  if  through  the  joy  or  through  the 
sorrow  of  life,  through  love  or  the  want 
of  it,  through  the  gaining  of  friends  or 
the  loss  of  them,  we  have  been  led  to 
dower  our  lives  with  the  friendship  of 
God,  we  are  possessed  of  the  incorrupti- 
ble, and  undefiled  and  that  passeth  jpti 
away.  The  man  who  has  it  has  attained 
the  secret  cheaply,  though  it  had  to  be 
purchased  with  his  heart's  blood,  with 
the  loss  of  his  dream  of  blessedness. 
When  the  fabric  of  life  crumbled  to  its 
native  dust,  and  he  rose  out  of  its  wreck, 
the  vision  of  the  eternal  love  came  with 
the  thrill  of  a  great  revelation.  It  was 
the  entrance  into  the  mystery,  and  the 
wonder  of  it  awed  him,  and  the  joy  of  it 
inspired  him,  and  he  awakened  to  the 
fact  that  never  again  could  he  be  alone  to 
all  eternity. 

Communion  with  God  is  the  great  fact  — 

222 


of  life.  All  our  forms  of  worship,  all  our 
ceremonies  and  symbols  of  religion,  find 
their  meaning  here.  There  is,  it  is  true, 
an  ethic  of  religion,  certain  moral  teach- 
ings valuable  for  life :  there  are  truths  of 
religion  to  be  laid  hold  of  by  the  reason : 
there  are  the  consolations  of  religion  to 
comfort  the  heart:  but  the  root  of  all  re- 
ligion is  this  mystical  union,  a  commun- 
ion with  the  Unseen,  a  friendship  with 
open  to  man.  Religion  is  not  an 
acceptance  of  a  creed,  or  a  burden  of 
commandments,  but  a  personal  secret  of 
the  soul,  to  be  attained  each  man  for 
fiimself.  It  is  tfie  experience  of  the 
nearness  of  God,  the  mysterious  contact 
with  the  divine,  and  the  consciousness 
that  we  stand  in  a  special  individual  re- 
lationship with  Him.  The  first  state  of 
exaltation,  when  the  knowledge  burst 
upon  the  soul,  cannot,  of  course,  last; 
but  its  effect  remains  in  inward  peace, 
and  outward  impulse  toward  nobler  life. 
Men  of  all  ages  have  known  this  close 
relationship.  The  possibility  of  it  is  the 
22$ 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


glory  of  life:  the  fact  of  it  is  the  romance 
of  history,  and  the  true  reading  of  history. 
All  devout  men  that  have  ever  lived  have 
lived  in  the  light  of  this  communion. 
All  religious  experience  has  had  this  in 
common,  that  somehow  the  soul  is  so 
possessed  by  God,  that  doubt  of  His  ex- 
istence ceases  ;  and  the  task  of  life  be- 
comes to  keep  step  with  Him,  so  that 
there  may  be  correspondence  between 
the  outer  and  the  inner  conditions  of  life. 
Men  have  known  this  communion  in 
such  a  degree  that  they  have  been  called 
preeminently  the  Friends  of  God,  but 
something  of  the  experience  which  un* 
derlies  the  term  is  true  of  the  pious  of  all 
generations. 

To  us,  in  our  place  in  history,  com- 
munion with  God  comes  through  Jesus 
Christ.  It  is  an  ineffable  mystery,  but  it 
is  still  a  fact  of  experience.  Only  through 
Jesus  do  we  know  God,  His  interest  in 
us,  His  desire  for  us,  His  purpose  with 
us.  He  not  only  shows  us  in  His  own 
example  the  blessedness  of  a  life  in  fel- 
224 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


lowship  with  the  Father,  but  He  makes 
it  possible  for  us.  United  to  Jesus,  we 
know  ourselves  united  to  God.  The 
power  of  Jesus  is  not  limited  to  the  his- 
torical impression  made  by  His  life.  It 
entered  the  world  as  history;  it  lives  in 
the  world  as  spiritual  fact  to-day.  Lu- 
^ther's  experience  is  the  experience  of  all 
believers,  "To  me  it  is  not  simply  an  old 
story  of  an  event  that  happened  once  ; 
for  it  is  a  gift,  a  bestowing,  that  endures 
forever."  We  offer  Christ  the  submis- 
sion of  our  hearts,  and  the  obedience  of 
our  lives;  and  He  offers  us  His  abiding 
presence.  We  take  Him  as  our  Master; 
and  He  takes  us  as  His  friends.  "I  call 
you  no  longer  servants,"  He  said  to  His 
disciples,  "but  I  have  called  you  friends." 
The  servant  knoweth  not  what  his  Mas- 
ter doeth,  his  only  duty  is  to  obey;  a 
friend  is  admitted  to  confidence,  and 
though  he  may  do  the  same  thing  as  a 
servant,  he  does  not  do  it  any  longer  un- 
reasoningly,  but,  having  been  taken  into 
counsel,  he  knows  why  he  is  doing  it 

22*, 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


^ 


This  was  Christ's  method  with  His  dis- 
ciples, not  to  apportion  to  each  his  task, 
but  to  show  them  His  great  purpose  for 
the  world,  and  to  ask  for  their  service 
and  devotion  to  carry  it  out 

The  distinction  is  not  that  a  servant 
pleases  his  master,  and  a  friend  pleases 
himself.  It  is  that  our  Lord  takes  us  up  into 
a  relationship  of  love  with  Himself,  and 
we  go  out  into  life  inspired  with  His 
spirit  to  work  His  work.  It  begins  with 
the  self-surrender  of  love;  and  love,  not 
fear  nor  favor,  becomes  the  motive.  To 
feel  thus  the  touch  of  God  on  our  lives 
changes  the  world.  Its  fruits  are  joy, 
and  peace,  and  confidence  that  all  the 
events  of  life  are  suffused,  not  only  with 
meaning,  but  with  a  meaning  of  love. 
The  higher  friendship  brings  a  satisfac- 
tion of  the  heart,  and  a  joy  commensu- 
rate to  the  love.  Its  reward  is  itself,  the 
sweet,  enthralling  relationship,  not  any 
adventitious  gain  it  promises,  either  in 
the  present,  or  for  the  future.  Even  if 
there  were  no  physical,  or  moral,  rewards 
226 


7-l 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


and  punishments  in  the  world,  we  would 
still  love  and  serve  Christ  for  His  own 
sake.  The  soul  that  is  bound  by  this 
personal  attachment  to  Jesus  has  a  life  in 
the  eternal,  which  transfigures  the  life  in 
time  with  a  great  joy. 

We  can  see  at  once  that  to  be  the 
friend  of  God  will  mean  peace  also.  It 
has  brought  peace  over  the  troubled  lives 
of  all  His  friends  throughout  the  ages. 
Every  man  who  enters  into  the  covenant, 
knows  the  world  to  be  a  spiritual  arena, 
in  which  the  love  of  God  manifests  itself. 
He  walks  no  longer  on  a  sodden  earth 
and  under  a  grey  sky;  for  he  knows 
that,  though  all  men  misunderstand  him, 
he  is  understood,  and  followed  with  lov- 
ing sympathy,  in  heaven.  It  was  this 
confidence  in  God  as  a  real  and  near 
friend,  which  gave  to  Abraham's  life  such 
distinction,  and  the  calm  repose  which 
made  his  character  so  impressive.  Strong 
in  the  sense  of  God's  friendship,  he  lived 
above  the  world,  prodigal  of  present 
possessions,  because  sure  of  the  future, 
227 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


waiting  securely  in  the  hope  of  the  great 
salvation.  He  walked  with  God  in  sweet 
unaffected  piety,  and  serene  faith,  letting 
his  character  ripen  in  the  sunshine,  and 
living  out  his  life  as  unto  God  not  unto 
men.  To  know  the  love  of  God  does 
not  mean  the  impoverishing  of  our  lives, 
by  robbing  them  of  their  other  sweet  re- 
lations. Rather,  it  means  the  enriching 
of  these,  by  revealing  their  true  beauty 
and  purpose.  Sometimes  we  are  brought 
nearer  God  through  our  friends,  if  not 
through  their  influence  or  the  joy  of  their 
love,  then  through  the  discipline  which 
comes  from  their  very  limitations  and 
from  their  loss.  But  oftener  the  experi- 
ence has  been  that,  through  our  union 
with  the  Friend  of  friends,  we  are  led 
into  richer  and  fuller  intercourse  with  our 
fellows.  The  nearer  we  get  to  the  centre 
of  the  circle,  the  nearer  we  get  to  each 
other.  To  be  joined  together  in  Christy 
is  the  only  permanent  union,  deeper  than 
the  tie  of  blood,  higher  than  the  bond  of 
kin,  closer  than  the  most  sacred  earthly 

328 

6. 


relationship.  Spiritual  kinship  is  the 
great  nexus  to  unite  men.  "Who  are 
My  brethren  ?  "  asked  Jesus,  and  for  an- 
swer pointed  to  His  disciples,  and  added, 
"Whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  My 
Father  in  heaven  the  same  is  My  mother 
and  sister  and  brother. " 

We  ought  to  make  more  of  our  / 
Christian  friendships,  the  communion- 
of  the  saints,  the  fellowship  of  believers. 
"They  that  feared  God  spake  often! 
one  with  another,"  said  the  prophet 
Malachi  in  one  of  the  darkest  hours 
of  the  church.  What  mutual,  comfort, 
and  renewed  hope,  they  would  get 
from,  and  give  to,  each  other!  Faith 
can  be  increased,  and  love  stimulated, 
and  enthusiasm  revived  by  intercourse. 
The  supreme  friendship  with  Christ 
therefore  will  not  take  from  us  any 
of  our  treasured  intimacies,  unless  they 
are  evil.  It  will  increase  the  number  of 
them,  and  the  true  force  of  them.  It 
will  link  us  on  to  all  who  love  the  same 
Lord  in  sincerity  and  truth.  It  will  open 
229 


T 


'mmmmMm&mm^mmmwssL 


our  heart  to  the  world  of  men  that  Jesus 
loved  and  gave  His  life  to  save. 

This  friendship  with  the  Lord  knows 
no  fear  of  loss;  neither  life,  nor  death, 
nor  things  present,  nor  things  to  come 
can  separate  us.  It  is  joy  and  strength 
in  the  present,  and  it  lights  up  the  future 
with  a  great  hope.  We  are  not  much 
concerned  about  speculations  regarding 
the  future ;  for  we  know  that  we  are  in 
the  hands  of  our  Lover.  All  that  we  care 
to  assert  of  the  future  is,  that  Christ  will 
in  an  ever  fuller  degree  be  the  environ- 
ment of  all  Christian  souls,  and  the  effect 
of  that  constant  environment  will  fulfill 
the  aspiration  of  the  apostle,  "  We  shall 
be  like  Him,  for  we  shall  see  Him  as  He 
is."  Communion  produces  likeness.  This 
even  now  is  the  test  of  our  friendship 
with  the  Lord.  Are  we  assimilating  His 
mind,  His  way  of  looking  at  things,  His 
judgments,  His  spirit  ?  Is  the  Christ-con- 
science being  developed  in  us  ?  Have  we 
an  increasing  interest  in  the  things  which 
interest  Him,  an  increasing  love  of  the 
230 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


things  that  He  loves,  an  increasing  desire 
to  serve  the  purposes  He  has  at  heart? 
"Ye  are  My  friends  if  ye  do  whatsoever 
I  command  you,"  is  the  test  by  which 
we  can  try  ourselves. 

Fellowship  with  Him,  being  much  in 
His  company,  thinking  of  Him,  seeking 
to  please  Him,  will  produce  likeness,  and 
bring  us  together  on  more  intimate  terms. 
For,  as  love  leads  to  the  desire  for  fuller 
fellowship ;  so  fellowship  leads  to  a  deeper 
love.  Even  if  sometimes  we  almost  doubt 
whether  we  are  really  in  this  blessed  cov- 
enant of  friendship,  our  policy  is  to  go 
on  loving  Him,  serving  Him,  striving  to 
please  Him ;  and  we  will  yet  receive  the 
assurance,  which  will  bring  peace;  He 
will  not  disappoint  us  at  the  last.  It  is 
worth  all  the  care  and  effort  we  can  give, 
to  have  and  to  keep  Him  for  our  friend 
who  will  be  a  lasting  possession,  whose 
life  enters  into  the  very  fibre  of  our  life, 
and  whose  love  makes  us  certain  of  God. 

We  ought  to  use  our  faith  in  this 
friendship  to  bless  our  lives.  To  have 
231 


7 


$o2 


an  earthly  friend,  whom  we  trust  and 
reverence,  can  be  to  us  a  source  of 
strength,  keeping  us  from  evil,  making 
us  ashamed  of  evil.  The  dearer  the 
friend  and  the  more  spiritual  the  friend- 
ship, the  keener  will  be  this  feeling,  and 
the  more  needful  does  it  seem  to  keep 
the  garments  clean.  It  must  reach  its 
height  of  intensity  and  of  moral  effec- 
tiveness in  the  case  of  friendship  with 
God.  There  can  be  no  motive  on  earth 
so  powerful.  If  we  could  only  have  such 
a  friendship,  we  see  at  once  what  an  in- 
fluence it  might  have  over  our  life.  We 
can  appreciate  more  than  the  joy,  and 
peace,  and  comfort  of  it;  we  can  feel  the 
power  of  it.  To  know  ourselves  ever  be- 
fore a  living,  loving  Presence,  having  a 
constant  sense  of  Christ  abiding  in  us, 
taking  Him  with  us  into  the  market- 
place, into  our  business  and  our  pleasure, 
to  have  Him  as  our  familiar  friend  in  joy 
and  sorrow,  in  gain  and  loss,  in  success 
and  failure,  must,  in  accordance  with  all 
psychological  law,  be  a  source  of  strength, 
232 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


lifting  life  to  a  higher  level  of  thought,  and 
feeling,  and  action.  Supposing  it  were 
true  and  possible,  it  would  naturally  be 
the  strongest  force  in  the  world,  the  most 
effective  motive  that  could  be  devised :  it 
would  affect  the  whole  moral  outlook, 
and  make  some  things  easy  now  deemed 
impossible,  and  make  some  things  im- 
possible now  to  our  shame  too  easy. 
Supposing  this  covenant  with  God  were 
true,  and  we  knew  ourselves  to  have  such 
a  Lover  of  our  soul,  it  would,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  give  us  deeper  and  more  serious 
views  of  human  life,  and  yet  take  away 
from  us  the  burden  and  the  unrest  of 
life. 

Unless  history  be  a  lie,  and  experience 
a  delusion,  it  zs  true.  The  world  is  vocal 
with  a  chorus  of  witness  to  the  truth  of 
it.  From  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men 
comes  the  testimony  to  its  reality — from 
the  old,  who  look  forward  to  this  Friend 
to  make  their  bed  in  dying;  from  the 
young,  who  know  His  aid  in  the  fiery 
furnace  of  temptation;  from  the  strong, 
233 


V 


in  the  burden  of  the  day  and  the  dust  of 
the  battle,  who  know  the  rest  of  His  love 
even  in  the  sore  labor  ;  from  the  weak, 
who  are  mastered  by  His  gracious  pity, 
and  inspired  by  His  power  to  suffer  and 
to  bear.  Christ's  work  on  earth  was  to 
make  the  friendship  of  God  possible  to 
all.  It  seems  too  good  to  be  true,  too 
wondrous  a  condescension  on  His  part, 
but  its  reality  has  been  tested,  and  at- 
tested, by  generations  of  believers.  This 
covenant  of  friendship  is  open  to  us,  to 
be  ours  in  life,  and  in  death,  and  past  the 
gates  of  death. 

The  human  means  of  communication 
is  prayer,  though  we  limit  it  sadly. 
Prayer  is  not  an  act  of  worship  merely, 
the  bending  of  the  knee  on  set  occasions, 
and  offering  petitions  in  need.  It  is  an 
attitude  of  soul,  opening  the  life  on  the- 
Godward  side,  and  keeping  free  commu- 
nication with  the  world  of  spirit.  And 
so,  it  is  possible  to  pray  always,  and  to 
keep  our  friendship  ever  green  and 
sweet  :  and  God  comes  back  upon  the 
234 


life,  as  dew  upon  the  thirsty  gtound. 
There  is  an  interchange  of  feeling,  a  re- 
sponsiveness of  love,  a  thrill  of  mutual 
friendship. 

"  You  must  love  Him,  ere  to  you 
He  shall  seem  worthy  of  your  love." 


The  great  appeal  of  the  Christian  faith  is 
to  Christian  experience.  Loving  Christ 
is  its  own  justification,  as  every  loving 
heart  knows.  Life  evidences  itself:  the 
existence  of  light  is  its  own  proof.  The 
power  of  Christ  on  the  heart  needs  no 
other  argument  than  itself.  Men  only 
doubt  when  the  life  has  died  out,  and 
the  light  has  waned,  and  flickered,  and 
spent  itself.  It  is  when  there  is  no  sign 
of  the  spirit  in  our  midst,  no  token  of 
forces  beyond  the  normal  and  the  usual, 
that  we  can  deny  the  spirit.  It  is  when 
faith  is  not  in  evidence  that  we  can  dis- 
pute faith.  It  is  when  love  is  dead  that 
we  can  question  love.  The  Christian 
faith  is  not  a  creed,  but  a  life;  not  a 
proposition,  but  a  passion.  Love  is  its 
235 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


own  witness  to  the  soul  that  loves:  com- 
munion is  its  own  attestation  to  the  spirit 
that  lives  in  the  fellowship.  The  man 
who  lives  with  Jesus  knows  Him  to  be  a 
Lover  that  cleaves  closer  than  a  brother, 
a  Friend  that  loveth  at  all  times,  and  a 
Brother  born  for  adversity. 

It  does  not  follow  that  there  is  an  end 
of  the  question,  so  far  as  we  are  con- 
cerned, if  we  say  that  we  at  least  do  not 
know  that  friendship,  and  cannot  love 
Him.  Some  even  say  it  with  a  wistful 
longing,  "  Oh,  that  I  knew  where  I  might 
find  Him."  It  is  true  that  love  cannot  be 
forced,  that  it  cannot  be  made  to  order, 
that  we  cannot  love  because  we  ought, 
or  even  because  we  want.  But  we  can 
bring  ourselves  into  the  presence  of  the 
lovable.  We  can  enter  into  Friendship 
through  the  door  of  Discipleship  ;  we 
can  learn  love  through  service;  and  the 
day  will  come  to  us  also  when  the  Mas- 
ter's word  will  be  true,  "I  call  you  no 
longer  servant,  but  I  call  you  friend." 
His  love  will  take  possession  of  us,  till  aU 
256 


latttuauas/ 


te 


THE  HIGHER  FRIENDSHIP 


else  seems  as  hatred  in  comparison.  "  AH 
lovers  blush  when  ye  stand  beside  Christ," 
says  Samuel  Rutherford;  "woe  unto  all 
love  but  the  love  of  Christ.  Shame  for- 
evermore  be  upon  all  glory  but  the  glory 
of  Christ;  hunger  forevermore  be  upon 
all  heaven  but  Christ.  I  cry  death,  death 
be  upon  all  manner  of  life  but  the  life  of 
Christ." 

To  be  called  friends  by  our  Master,  to 
know  Him  as  the  Lover  of  our  souls,  to 
give  Him  entrance  to  our  hearts,  is  to 
learn  the  meaning  of  living,  and  to  ex- 
perience the  ecstasy  of  living.  The 
Higher  Friendship  is  bestowed  without 
money  and  without  price,  and  is  open  to 
every  heart  responsive  to  God's  great 
love. 


*  Tis  only  heaven  that  is  given  away, 
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